The Vow
by fictionfrek101
Summary: [Semi-MFS Based] When a rally gone wrong lands Enjolras' wife, Éponine, in the hospital, the results are unfathomable, she's lost the last 18 months of her memory, including how they met and fell in love. As he struggles to help her regain her memory, he can't help but wonder if there are some things left unsaid, and if a once in a lifetime love can only happen once.
1. The Sum Total of Us

Because I'm _dying _to write an Enjonine story while My Father's Shadow catches up to the two of them meeting, I've decided to write a version of The Vow using Éponine and Enjolras. For those My Father's Shadow fans you'll see that this is semi connected to My Father's Shadow by making Javert Enjolras' father and having his mother be Adelaide, but they are two different stories as you can plainly see due to the fact that Adelaide is able to see Enjolras well into adulthood, and that she and Javert also _were _able to have another child (yes, I give you MFS fans permission to weep at what could have been, I know I have).

I've set the story to happen on June 6, 2012, because it's a lot more similar to 1832, than 2013, plus I don't like the idea of setting this in the future (no matter how soon that is). Also, in this chapter I talk about _The King's Speech _and _Black Swan _and how they fared at the Oscars. I have never actually seen _Black Swan _because of psychological triggers, but even if I had, I think (for the record) that _The King's Speech _is a superior film. But that's just my opinion, and I needed the characters to talk about a couple movies that were out at that time, so each to their own opinion. Plus, I couldn't resist the Tom Hooper inception.

You'll also notice that Enjolras seemed to have fallen for Éponine rather fast, in the flashbacks of this chapter. This is not true, the next couple chapters have flashbacks that show when he started

And just one last thing, in this opening chapter any passages that are fully in italics are meant to be read as if Enjolras is doing a voice over.

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Les Miserables, **_**nor **_**The Vow**_**, and I am merely using them the write a story that I will not profit off of.**

**Pairing Disclaimer: The pairings in this story will be as follows, Enjolras/Éponine, Jehan/Azelma, Marius/Cosette, Valjean/Fantine, Javert/OC (or Adelaide for my MFS readers), Combeferre/Turning Woman 3, Joly/Musichetta/Bossuet, Thénardier/Mme Thénardier, Bahorel/OC, Courfeyrac/OC, **_**some **_**Montparnasse/Éponine, one-sided Éponine/Marius, and Grantaire/Enjolras. If you can't bring yourself to give a chance to these couples, then this story is not for you.**

* * *

The Vow

Chapter One

The Sum Total of Us

* * *

_How it happened doesn't matter. Neither does where it happened or what we were protesting. All that mattered is _what _happened._

* * *

**June 6, 2012**

**3:47 PM**

* * *

"Where are the leaders of the land?" Sébastien Enjolras stood on a platform that had been raised in the main square as people gathered around him, listening to the charismatic leader's address. "Where are the swells who run the show?"

His friend and associate, Marius Pontmercy stood next to him, addressing the crowd with his own response, "Only one man, General Lamarque, speaks for the people here below."

* * *

_It was a two day protest. A protest that I led, a protest I organized, a protest born of my own mind, so the consequences of what happened rest squarely on my shoulders._

* * *

"Lamarque is ill and fading fast!" Enjolras cried out to the crowd. His friend Courfeyrac had discovered that new information that morning, via their other friend, Joly, an intern at the hospital Lamarque was being treated. The crowd booed and hissed at the thought of losing their beloved leader and Enjolras continued, "Won't last the week out, so they say."

* * *

_The protest was led by me and my friends, a group we call ourselves the Les Amis de l'ABC._

* * *

"With all the anger in the land," Marius continued, "how long before the judgement day?"

"Before we cut the fat ones down to size?" Enjolras patted Marius on the arm as he scanned the crowd.

His blue eyes froze. Smiling up at him was a young woman with brown eyes, tan skin and short black hair. A woman who had once loved the redhead next to him, but whose heart now completely belonged to the blonde, and his formerly marble one, to her.

* * *

_Also there was my wife of ten weeks, Éponine. She had left her brother and sister (of who are the legal guardians) with Marie, the wife of my best friend Combeferre._

* * *

"Before the barricades arise?" Enjolras yelled and the crowd cheered loudly, though Enjolras saw none but his beloved Éponine.

* * *

_She never should have been there._

* * *

Nodding to Combeferre, Enjolras swiftly traded places with his friend who continued on with their political platform as he joined his wife.

Éponine beamed at him, "You were wonderful."

"Merci, Mon Amour," Enjolras took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

"Our theory is that if education is free to all citizens of France, then illiteracy will be up and both crime and poverty will be down," Combeferre declared as Marius stood patiently on the platform.

* * *

_I have a theory, too. My theory is about moments. Moments of impact._

* * *

"Police!"

Éponine fought hard against the panicked crowd that was jostling her every which way, separating her from her husband and friends as everyone scattered. She wasn't worried until the police turned violent.

It was hard to tell _why _they had become violent, but it was clear things were serious when the first shot rang out.

"Enjolras!" she desperately cried out, though her voice was lost among the masses trying to find their loved ones as the second shot fired.

Then she saw it, a police man with a gun pointed straight at Marius, and Marius blissfully unaware of his imminent doom as he stood trapped with Combeferre on the platform.

Though she no longer loved Marius, he still was her best friend, and Éponine acted on instinct.

She ran forward, grabbed the gun and pointed it at herself.

* * *

_My theory is that these moments of impact, these flashes of high intensity that completely turn our lives upside down, actually ending up defining who we are._

* * *

When the first shot fired, Enjolras had been searching for Éponine. He saw a flash and watched as the bullet hit Grantaire in the leg. Enjolras rushed forward, catching his friend as Grantaire crumbled to the ground.

"Joly!" Enjolras yelled, helping Grantaire sit down, trying to ensure they didn't get trampled as another shot fired.

Enjolras spotted the young med student attending to his best friend, the notoriously unlucky Bossuet who was clutching his bloodied arm, clearly the victim of the second shot.

"Do you think you can make it to Joly?" Enjolras asked Grantaire, leaving an injured person wasn't the best idea, but he had to find Éponine.

"I've had much worse, Apollo," Grantaire grinned, trying to mask the pain as he clutched his injured leg.

Enjolras smiled lightly and then looked around at the crowd, trying to spot a familiar face.

"Courfeyrac!" Enjolras called out, and the familiar young man joined the pair. "Stay with Grantaire and get him help."

"Yes Sir!" Courfeyrac gave Enjolras a mock salute and the blonde rolled his eyes before dashing off.

Maybe leaving Grantaire in the hands of a man who had no medical experience wasn't the best plan, but he could trust Courfeyrac to take care of Grantaire. Courfeyrac had a bit of a reputation as a ladies man, but his most recent girlfriend was Grantaire's little sister, Juliette. Due to the fact Grantaire would murder Courfeyrac if he ever treated his sister badly, Courfeyrac had been with Juliette for quite some time and rumor had it, the infamous flirt actually rather enjoyed Juliette's company. So Courfeyrac letting Grantaire come to harm wouldn't be winning him brownie points anytime soon, and that was enough for Enjolras to trust Courfeyrac.

Shaking his worries of Grantaire from his mind, Enjolras weaved through the crowd, desperately trying to find his wife.

Then he saw it.

A gun was pointed directly at Marius. Suddenly, Éponine emerged from the crowd and grabbed the gun. Without hesitation she pointed it directly at herself.

Everything moved in slow motion.

He screamed out her name.

The gun flashed.

Éponine cried out.

Marius and Combeferre turned and saw what happened.

Éponine fell back from the platform.

Marius punched out the police officer.

Éponine's head smashed against the pavement.

Marius and Combeferre were at her side.

Enjolras cried out her name again.

A loud bang sounded behind him.

An intense throbbing pain hit his shoulder.

He fell forward.

Everything went black.

* * *

_But what if one day you could no longer remember any of them?_

* * *

**June 6, 2012**

**4:23 PM**

* * *

"The victims are Philippe Laigle, 21, gunshot to the arm. Damien Grantaire, 26, gunshot to the leg. Sébastien Enjolras, 22, gunshot to the shoulder and possible head trauma. Éponine Enjolras, 20, gunshot to stomach, powder burns to hands, unidentified head injuries and possible brain trauma. More victims to come."

"Alright," Doctor Jean Valjean nodded at the nurse as the paramedics wheeled in the patients, "take them straight to the ER, and call for Doctor Poirier to ready the CT scan. I'll prep for surgery."

The nurse frowned in confusion, Valjean should have instantly rushed into the ER with the victims, especially as he had been specifically called down when it was reported there were possible head injuries. However it seemed that he was lingering for some reason.

"Well?" Valjean asked.

The nurse nodded and headed off to carry out his instructions and Valjean sighed.

He looked up at the clock on the wall and muttered, "In three… Two… One."

Just then a very familiar crowd of faces burst into the room.

"How are they doing?"

"Are they okay?"

"I can't believe she did that!"

"Where's Grantaire?"

"How's Enjolras?"

"What happened to Éponine?"

"Is Bossuet okay?"

The voices tripped over each other as the uninjured Les Amis (or at least unneeding of hospital attention) piled in, crowding around Valjean and badgering him with all their questions. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Feuilly, Bahorel, Marius and Joly all queued for attention. No doubt the rest of the gang would be around shortly, and the boys would have to explain to five irate women and one far too mature for his age, 11 year old, what happened.

"We don't know anything yet," Valjean spoke above the boys' questions. "They just got here, so if you'll allow it, I'm going to go do the best I can the fix them. The waiting room is yours to occupy as long as you need it."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Joly asked. "I know I'm just an intern, but-"

"Call your loved ones, and tell them you're safe," Valjean replied. "That's all you can do right now, that and hope for the best."

The boys sighed heavily and slowly began to make their way towards the waiting room. Low mumbles emitted from their throats as they exchanged information about the day's events, and in Bahorel's case, muttered Valjean's name, followed by a string of light curses out of frustration.

"Marius?" Valjean suddenly called.

The redhead stopped in his tracks, unfortunately causing Courfeyrac to walk into him.

"Yes?" Marius frowned at his step-father-in-law.

Valjean lightly smirked, "You get to tell Cosette."

* * *

**June 7, 2012**

**2:09 AM**

* * *

"Any news yet?" Marie Combeferre née Huchelop asked. She and Feuilly had been sent to get coffee from the cafeteria for the overtired Les Amis who were desperate for news of their friends.

The women had been as irate as Valjean expected, but they were long over yelling at the boys and now were just waiting for news.

"None," Juliette sighed, staring longingly at the room to the ER.

Courfeyrac kept an arm tucked around her waist and the other on the shoulder of Gavroche, who lay sullenly at his feet, "I'm sure he'll be fine. They just got his legs."

"And I can guarantee you that Bossuet will be fine, though it's possibly they're just trying to get the bleeding to stop," Joly frowned. "They hit very close to the brachial artery."

Everyone stared at Joly.

"The upper arm artery," Joly clarified looking at Musichetta who he had in his arms.

"I hope you're right," Musichetta sighed. The relationship between Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet was complicated. Technically they were both her boyfriend, but they weren't each other's… At least that's what the Les Amis thought, no one knew for sure what happened between the three, and any attempt to find out was met with the phrase "it's none of your business". Regardless, Joly and Bossuet were still the best of friends, and all seemed to be happy about whatever arrangement they did have.

"I still don't get what happened with Éponine and Enjolras," Azelma, Éponine's sister frowned at Jehan, her fiancé.

If there was any relationship that had taken the Les Amis by surprise, it was definitely the one between Azelma Thénardier and Jean Prouvaire. Though in hindsight, the wide eyed innocent Azelma falling for the romantic Jehan, whose main concerns in their social justice group were women and children, wasn't that much of a stretch. Barely more than a year apart, the courtship had been fast, and the couple was set to wed on September 16th of that year, eight days after Azelma's 18th birthday.

"During the attacks, Combeferre and I were trapped on the platform and I didn't notice that a gun was pointed at me," Marius answered, stroking the hair of his wife, Cosette, whose head was in his lap. "Éponine saw it, grabbed the gun and took the shot, pointing it at her stomach."

"But you said her head was practically dashed in," Marie frowned at her husband Combeferre, taking a seat next to him.

"First of all, I didn't say dashed in, just pretty bad," Combeferre sighed at his wife. "And second, after taking the bullet, she lost her balance and fell off the platform."

"What about Enjolras?" Cosette asked, looking up at her husband.

Marius shrugged; he had been too busy dealing with Éponine to see what happened to Enjolras.

"He was shot right after Éponine," Bahorel stared at the clock, watching the second hand tick by trying to forget the things he had seen that day.

"Do you guys think we should call…" Musichetta jerked her head significantly. "You know?"

"Well, my darling Musichetta," Courfeyrac replied, "in circumstances like this, I like to think WWED."

"WWED?" Musichetta frowned, an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

"What Would Enjolras Do?" Courfeyrac answered only to be met with the group's groans.

"So, in other words no," Combeferre said, eyes heavy as they fought off sleep.

"Still," Marie frowned at her husband, nudging him, trying to keep him awake, "I think they should know."

"Well, let's have Enjolras decide when he's out of surgery," Combeferre suggested, staring at Cosette with envy as she had apparently succumb to her napping urges. "Though he might be a little more concerned with Éponine."

"Ahem."

Everyone looked up to see a nurse staring expectantly at the group.

"Are any of you here for," the nurse checked her chart, "Damien Grantaire or Philippe Laigle?"

"We are," Musichetta answered as she, Joly, Courfeyrac and Juliette stood.

"They're well enough to see visitors now," the nurse said.

"How are they?" Juliette asked as Courfeyrac tried, and failed, to get Gavroche to move from the floor.

"Pretty minor injuries," the nurse shrugged, "shouldn't be in here too long. Most of the wait was because Monsieur and Madame Enjolras were such high priority."

Marius sat up straight, jolting the slumbering Cosette awake, "How are they?"

"Doctor Valjean is still in surgery working on Madame Enjolras, and Monsieur Enjolras is nearing the end of his. Will you four follow me?" the nurse gestured to the door, and Musichetta, Joly, Courfeyrac and Juliette followed her out of the waiting room.

"Éponine will be okay, right?" Feuilly asked, nudging Bahorel whose eyes were still fixed on the clock.

An uncomfortable silence befell the group, honestly no one knew the answer, but none wanted to tell Gavroche and Azelma that their sister could possibly die.

"Éponine's tough," Gavroche stared at the floor, ghosts of the past floating in his eyes. "She's been through worse."

Feuilly moved over to Gavroche and patted his shoulder, before the fan maker took a seat next to the boy.

Azelma tucked herself into Jehan's arms; she couldn't help but remember the last time Éponine had been in the hospital. It was before most of the gang knew Éponine, but it was a life changing event that none would forget.

* * *

_This story starts like so many others, by a boy meeting a girl. Don't get me wrong, this is no fairy tale, and who knows if this will end with happily ever after, but still, a boy met a girl._

* * *

_**One Year Ago**_

**February 21, 2011**

* * *

"At Notre Dame the sections are prepared," Combeferre reported to Enjolras as he poured over their plans in the Café Musain, their headquarters.

"At Rue de Bac they're straining at the leash," Feuilly grinned as Enjolras jotted something down.

"Good, progress is being made," Enjolras stared at the document in front of him. "Marius, what's your report?"

Silence.

"Marius?" Enjolras frowned as the redhead's figure suddenly passed by, heading to the stairs.

Enjolras looked up and froze. Reaching the stairs, Marius met with a young woman who had entered the room. Enjolras had never seen the girl before; she had short black hair, tan skin, brown eyes and a dazzling smile.

"Did you find tell her?" Marius asked the mysterious new girl.

She nodded in response and Marius grinned before heading down the stairs.

The mystery girl was about to follow when she glanced up.

Brown eyes met blue.

* * *

_One of my absolute favorite moments._

* * *

She hesitated for a second as Enjolras stared at her in awe. Then, slowly, a smile formed across her lips. Enjolras smiled back and slowly nodded at her.

"Éponine!" Marius' voice called up.

She waited a moment, before descending the stairs, the grin still plastered across her face.

"Éponine," Enjolras whispered, before turning back to his work, a smile stuck on his face.

"What was that?" Joly asked as he observed Enjolras, with Marie (back when she was still just Mademoiselle Huchelop as her engagement to Combeferre was still a few months away).

"I don't know," Marie frowned at her boyfriend's best friend, and Enjolras' unnatural smile.

"I do," Grantaire smirked bitterly as he swung back a gulp of his drink. Crassly he wiped his sleeve across his mouth, clearing the residue of the alcohol from his lips, though the scent of it clung to his breath like a thick fog. "Apollo's marble has begun to crack."

* * *

**April 2, 2011**

* * *

It had been a whirlwind few months, but barely two months after Cosette Valjean had met Marius Pontmercy, she had stood up in church and vowed to love him for all time, becoming Madame Cosette Pontmercy.

For Éponine Thénardier it was a nightmare. She was forced to watch as her former foster sister, and maternal cousin married the man Éponine had been so desperately in love with, and who had practically saved her and her siblings from her horrible life on the streets.

She sat alone at the table, bitterly sipping another glass of champagne as she watched the happy couples all dancing with each other.

Musichetta was doing an entertaining dance of being passed between Bossuet and Joly; while Marie laughed as Combeferre spun her around (they were about a month away from engagement at that point in time). Courfeyrac and Bahorel were supposed to be watching Gavroche, but instead were hitting on the other female guests as Juliette tried to keep her brother, Grantaire, upright while they danced (she was not due to date Courfeyrac for about another year). Jehan had asked Azelma to dance with him, and flirtation marked every one of their moves. Marius was dancing with Fantine, his new mother-in-law, and Éponine's own Aunt, via her Mother, as Cosette pranced around with Doctor Jean Valjean, the step-father whose marriage to Fantine had been a large factor in Cosette's return to Fantine's custody.

"Lucky," Éponine bitterly threw back another swallow of champagne.

"Is this seat taken?"

Éponine looked up to see the blonde haired blue eyed, smartly dressed groomsman that led the Les Amis de l'ABC, holding a glass of champagne.

"Go ahead," Éponine uncaringly gestured to the seat next to her, eyes returning to the dance floor.

"Merci," the blonde sat down. He extended his hand to Éponine, "I'm Enjolras."

"I know," she didn't look at him.

They stayed in silence for a while. After a few minutes, Éponine sighed and bent down to pick up her handbag, which sat upon the floor. She rummaged through the purse before producing a small notebook and pencil, something she was known for always carrying around. Éponine was a young freelance artist, not exactly the steadiest way of income, but she was able to find enough jobs to keep a stable flow of money. A lot of it was thanks to the Les Amis, as they had connections, and whenever they heard that so and so's father's company was looking for someone to design a logo for a new product, or his cousin's mother's rich aunt was looking for original artworks to show off in their house, they would always try to get Éponine the job.

Enjolras frowned as he watched her sketch; Éponine had taken on a strange new project lately, which reimagined their political group as 19th century student revolutionaries. It was a weird concept, but she was pretty good at it. Currently, she was drawing the wedding scene they were witnessing with everyone in 1830's attire. She was particularly obsessed with the June Rebellion of 1832, but so was everyone else in the group. Still, she could still outfact a good portion of the guys in the group being an expert of the time period on par with Enjolras himself. Often she said that "in pictures, every detail has to be accurate" as an explanation for her obsession. A smile played on his face as he watched her hand form every perfect line, bringing the scene to life.

Éponine sighed, laying her pencil on the table and looking to him, "What do you want?"

"Pardon?" Enjolras frowned.

"What do you want? You could have taken a seat at any of the other empty tables but you chose mine. Why?"

Enjolras shrugged, "You looked lonely. Nice picture."

"I'm _not _lonely," she snapped, taking another drink from her glass as she placed her sketchbook on the table.

Enjolras stared at her, reading her face, "Yes you are. You love him."

Éponine lowered her glass, "Don't."

"Why not? It's true, isn't it? I've seen you; you follow him, doing his bidding, giving him everything for nothing in return."

"Oh, and you're an expert in love?" Éponine raised a brow. "_I've_ seen _you_. The marble Apollo they call you. You pour over your plans, focusing on nothing but your social movements, pledging your love to Patria and Patria alone. You want me to believe The Marble Man doesn't have a heart of stone?"

"And you wish me to believe someone can have and hold The Shadow?" Enjolras shot. "You'd slip right through their fingers. Not very dateable material."

Éponine scoffed, "I am _very _dateable."

"Sure you are," Enjolras laughed, taking a sip from his glass.

"Yes I am!" Éponine snapped. Heads turned toward them, and Enjolras had to wave them off as a blush rose to Éponine's cheeks. "Look, I'll prove it to you."

"How?" Enjolras scoffed.

"Next Saturday, I'll go out with you and then you'll see how dateable I am."

Enjolras paused as the implications set in.

"You want to go out with me?" Enjolras raised a brow at the melancholy Maid of Honour (because the day hadn't rubbed enough salt in her wounds, Cosette had also asked her cousin to be her Maid of Honour due to how close she was to Marius).

"Don't get any ideas, it's just to prove a point," Éponine replied, knowing all too well that Enjolras was the type of person who need hard evidence to be proved wrong. "Just dinner and a movie, nothing special."

"Well," Enjolras scratched his chin, "they are rereleasing _The King's Speech_, and I'd like to see what all that Oscar business was."

"Do we have an accord?" Éponine asked.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"I get next dance with you," Enjolras offered his hand, the amount of champagne finally catching up with him. "Come on, let's go make Pontmercy jealous."

"With pleasure," Éponine smirked, her own alcohol setting in.

She clasped his hand, but right as Enjolras was about to shake their hands, she yanked him out of his seat and pulled him towards the dance floor.

* * *

**April 9, 2011**

* * *

"Ok, _now _I see why _The King's Speech_ won the Oscar for best film," Enjolras walked out of the theatre with Éponine.

"Oh please, _Black Swan_ was robbed," Éponine laughed. "_The King's Speech _was good, don't get me wrong, but compared with the psychological thriller that is _Black Swan _that was rubbish!"

"Come on, you love anything with Natalie Portman in it," Enjolras opened the car door for her.

Éponine frowned, "How did you know that?"

Enjolras shut her door and then rounded the car, climbing into the 2008 red Renault Fluence that anyone could tell you Enjolras was _very _proud off. The car was practically his baby, and Lord help you, if you insulted or damaged it in anyway.

Turning the keys in the ignition, Enjolras asked, "So you live at-"

"Enjolras," Éponine grabbed his hand. "How did you know I liked Natalie Portman?"

"The same way I know your favorite colour is green." Enjolras sighed and turned the car off. "I also know your favorite food is spaghetti, that you never finished High School, that your birthday is April 15th and that you used to wear your hair long."

"Mon Dieu," Éponine gasped, drawing back from him. "You've been stalking me."

Enjolras laughed, "No, not stalking, just… observing."

"You know, coming from anyone else, I'd be walking home and filling out a restraining order," Éponine frowned. "Why have you been _observing _me?"

Enjolras sighed, "Because you captivate me."

"What? I captivate you? What does that mean?"

Enjolras took a deep breath, it was hard to actually vocalize what he was about to admit, "It means I have what some people might label a crush."

"You have a crush on me?" Éponine stared at him.

"Yes, I do."

"A crush?" Éponine repeated as her brain strained to make the connection between Enjolras, the ability to produce hormones and the idea of him becoming infatuated with someone.

"A crush." Enjolras nodded.

Éponine frowned, her head still reeling to make the appropriate connections, "Like you can't think about anything else or you can't do your work?"

"Dieu, no! I'm not Pontmercy. I can do work and keep my head about," Enjolras shook his head. He lowered his eyes, before admitting, "But as for the thinking about you… You're right about that."

Éponine shifted uncomfortably.

Enjolras took a deep breath, "Look, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have goaded you into a date. I knew if I challenged you, you'd ask me out, and that was wrong of me. I just… I had to tell you."

"Enjolras," Éponine sighed, putting her head in her hands. "Look, you're a nice guy, but I'm sorry I can't return your feelings. I've got all these issues with my parents, as well as that Montparnasse business I have to deal with. Then there's that whole taking care of my younger siblings and trying to get custody of them. I just couldn't bring anyone into their lives right now, and certainly not anyone who couldn't accept them as part of my life. Plus, there's that hideously inappropriate crush on the man married to my cousin that I'm working on right now."

"Inappropriate crush and parental issues aside, I understand about your siblings," Enjolras replied not even willing to dignify that bastard ex-fiancé of hers by voicing Montparnasse's name or discussing the subject. "I know Gavroche and Azelma are part of your life, and the fact you work so hard to take care of them is one of the things I admire about you. I'd be more than willing to accept them into my life if anything were to happen between us."

Éponine bit her lip, "Thank you, but… A boyfriend is out of the question right now. Though… I could use a friend?"

"A friend it is, then," Enjolras nodded, and turned the key in the ignition. "I'm dropping you off at the same place?"

"Yep," Éponine buckled her seatbelt.

"Oh and Éponine?" Enjolras did up his seatbelt. "I'd still like to meet your siblings."

Eponine smiled, "I think they'd like to meet you."

* * *

**April 13, 2011**

* * *

"Go up! Go up!" Gavroche shouted.

"I'm trying to go up!" Enjolras cried, jerking the joystick up frantically.

No less than a minute later there was the unmistakeable sound of Enjolras' character dying and the words GAME OVER flashed across the television screen.

"Mon Dieu, you suckat video games," Gavroche snatched the controller from the man and started up his turn.

"Gavroche, language," Éponine warned struggling to pull her short hair into a ponytail as she exited the bedroom. She still wasn't used to the short hair, but she couldn't go back to her former hairstyle. Not after what it represented and reminded her of her former life. "Enjolras, thanks again for agreeing to watch Gavroche at last minute. When the Café called me up saying that Marie was sick and they needed someone, I didn't want to make myself look bad by telling them I couldn't cover the shift. I've only been working there a week and I'm so worried I'll lose this job after it took so long to find this one."

"That's alright," Enjolras replied. "I was done classes for the day anyway, plus staying meant I had to hear Marius and Combeferre argue over whether to send Marie peonies, which apparently mean healing, or yarrow, which means good health."

"I hope he picked the peonies," Azelma entered the room from her and Gavroche's bedroom. "Yarrows are ugly."

"To each their own," Éponine shrugged while looking her sister up and down. Azelma was dressed particularly fancier than for hanging out with friends. "And you are going where?"

Azelma adjusted her earrings, "Nowhere."

"Does nowhere happen to be my place of work?" Éponine glared at her younger sister.

"Maybe," Azelma entered the kitchen and checked her reflection in the microwave.

Éponine sighed, "I'm not sure how I feel about you flirting with Jehan. He's a college student."

"But he sends the nicest gifts, poems and flowers and… Oh!" Azelma had turned around to see a bundle of yellow flowers sitting on the counter. "Who are these for?"

"Oh," Enjolras looked away from the girls, "Combeferre dragged me into the store with him, so I picked up those for Éponine. I figured, why not?"

"Well, thank you, Enjolras," Éponine entered the kitchen and picked up the bundle of flowers.

There was a small card attached to the bouquet that read: _Jonquils, these flowers mean "Return my affection?"_

"Oh, how sweet!" Azelma sounded over Éponine's shoulder, and Éponine instantly slapped a hand over her sister's mouth.

"Yes, they are," Éponine falsely smiled. "Azelma, will you help me prepare these?"

"Sure," Azelma unwrapped the flowers as Éponine knelt down and produced a vase from the bottom cupboard. When Éponine stood, Azelma muttered under her breath, "So… flowers."

"Don't say it, Zelm," Éponine whispered, filling the vase with fresh water.

"What? I like him," Azelma glanced over at Enjolras as he and Gavroche played happily together.

"I do too," Éponine cut the stems of the flowers and added them to the vase, "but you know I can't have any relationships right now."

"I know, but Ep…" Azelma frowned. "Don't let something good go because you can't deal with it right now."

Éponine sighed and looked over at Enjolras, "I'll think about it."

Azelma grinned plopping the final jonquil into the vase and proclaimed, "There! Now, can I get a ride to the Café?"

Éponine shook her head, "Nothing's going to stop you, huh? Well, come on. See you boys later! And thanks again Enjolras for watching Gavroche and for the flowers!"

"No problem!" Enjolras called as he and Gavroche waved goodbye.

Enjolras smiled as he watched Éponine and Azelma leave the apartment. When the door shut behind them, he looked over at the vase of flowers sitting on the counter and then turned back to the television, only to find Gavroche giving him the evil eye.

"What?" Enjolras frowned.

Gavroche narrowed his eyes at Enjolras, "I'm watching you."

* * *

_**Present Day**_

**June 7, 2012**

**7:51 AM**

* * *

Enjolras slowly cracked open his eyes, and instantly regretted his decision as the sterile white lights blinded him.

"Merde," he hissed, clamping his eyes shut at the invading brightness.

"Sébastien?" a familiar voice floated in through the darkness. "Sébastien, can you hear me?"

Warily, Enjolras blinked gently, adjusting his eyes to the light, "Doctor Valjean?"

Looking around the room, Enjolras took in his position, he was in the hospital, lying on a bed, the back of his head stung faintly, and his left arm had a cast on that was resting in a sling.

"It's good to have you back Sébastien," Valjean spoke from Enjolras' bedside. The doctor was one of the few people allowed to call Enjolras by his first name, as Valjean had known the blonde since Enjolras was just a child. Enjolras' father was, to put it mildly, a grudging associate of Valjean, though it was truly through Valjean's wife, Fantine, and Enjolras' mother that Enjolras' family continued their association with the Valjeans. So when waking up in a strange hospital, and having no idea how he got there, Valjean was a welcome sight to Enjolras.

"What's going on?" Enjolras groaned, rubbing the back of his head with his good arm. He cried out in pain as the sting increased and Valjean firmly, but carefully, took Enjolras' hand and moved it from the back of his head.

"Don't touch the back of your head, we don't want the stitches to reopen," Valjean said.

"Stitches?" Enjolras frowned. "Why do I have stitches?"

"Sébastien, you were in an accident," Valjean explained looked down at the chart in his hand. "You were at a rally, the police became involved, it got violent, and you were injured. Do you remember any of that?"

"Yes," Enjolras nodded as hazy images flooded his mind, Grantaire getting shot, Combeferre's speech, something to do with Marius? "I was shot, right?"

"Yes," Valjean nodded. "You were shot in the left shoulder and when you collapsed, you hit your head on the pavement. Now, I'm worried that your head injury may have caused some damage, so I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright?"

"Alright," Enjolras nodded.

Valjean flipped a page on the chart in his hands, "Please state your full legal name."

"Sébastien Léonard Enjolras."

Valjean looked up, "Your legal name."

"It is my legal name. I changed it."

"Alright," Valjean shook his head, the feud between Enjolras and his family was well-known, but the Doctor hadn't thought it had gone _that _far. "When were you born?"

"February 10, 1990."

"Who is the President of France?"

"François Hollande, not that I voted for him," Enjolras grumbled. His head was swimming as his mind focused in on an image of… Marius?

"What day was your accident?" Valjean stared at him curiously, almost as if searching, or waiting for something.

"June 6, 2013," Enjolras frowned, rubbing his throbbing temples.

Why was the image of a gun pointed at Marius echoing in his aching head? Something to do with Éponine?

Then it clicked.

Enjolras shot up straight, "Éponine! Is she alright?"

Valjean's face dropped solemnly, "Let's go for a walk, your friends have been waiting to see you."

"But Éponine-"

"I'll explain Éponine's situation on the way." Valjean paused as if a thought had struck him, "Oh, and these are taken from you two before you went into surgery.

Valjean reached into his coat and withdrew three rings, the largest one was just a plain gold band, but the two smaller ones consisted of one simple gold band with a few small diamonds on it, and the other an engagement ring, another golden band, with a larger round diamond, and four small diamond on either side of it.

"Thanks," Enjolras took the rings and slipped on his wedding ring.

"Now," Valjean helped Enjolras out of the bed, "your wife."

* * *

Enjolras was silently staring at the rings in his hand, as he and Valjean walked down the hospital corridor towards the waiting room and Valjean explained Éponine's condition.

"Your wife's CT scan showed intracranial hemorrhaging," Valjean said. "We purposely keep patients with traumatic brain injuries in a comatose state in order to calm their systems and allow the brain time to heal itself while the swelling subsides. And then we slowly wean them off it."

The words echoed painfully in his head as Valjean continued explaining the situation.

Enjolras sighed, gingerly fingering his wedding ring, and swimming through memories of himself and Éponine.

He wouldn't trade them for the world.

* * *

_The thing is, each one of us is the sum total of every moment that we've ever experienced, with all the people we've ever known._

* * *

**June 7, 2012**

**8:17 AM**

* * *

"Enjolras!"

Enjolras cried out as he suddenly found his injured arm being squeezed tightly, as his sister-in-law Azelma, threw herself at Enjolras into a hug.

"Zelm? My arm," Enjolras groaned, face clenched in pain, but trying not to show too much weakness. He may have been injured, but he still was the leader of this group, with the exception of Valjean, and Fantine who had shown up a few hours ago to comfort her daughter, niece and nephew. Fantine had decided that it would just be better to let her family spend the night waiting for news as she got some rest so that someone was fresh in the morning. Then when they got some news, they had called Fantine, and she brought everyone some proper breakfast and fresh clothes (no one was exactly sure how she had figured out where they all lived, got into their houses and picked out their clothes, but no one was about to ask.)

"Oh, sorry!" Azelma smiled apologetically, as Jehan eased her off of Enjolras and Gavroche gave Enjolras' legs a brief 'manly' hug, and Enjolras gave him a firm pat on the back.

"That's alright," Enjolras nodded scanning the room at all their friends, taking note of Bossuet, who had a cast like him, and Grantaire whose leg had a cast and was leaning on a crutch.

"How are you doing, Apollo?" Grantaire asked, shifting awkwardly.

"Can't complain too much," Enjolras shrugged awkwardly with his one free arm. "You?"

"Tis but a scratch," Grantaire smirked.

Enjolras just shook his head, "Is everyone else alright?"

There was a collective murmuring of positive replies, and Enjolras nodded before turning back to Valjean, who had been greeting his wife and step-daughter.

"Can we see Éponine?" Enjolras asked, his voice that of the firm authoritative leader of the Les Amis de l'ABC.

"Not, _all _of you," Valjean shook his head. "Éponine's in a very delicate condition right now, a crowd around her is not the best idea. I'd like to just keep it to family right now."

"Being Azelma's fiancé, can I come in?" Jehan asked, arm firmly around Azelma's waist.

"Only if Azelma wants to see her," Valjean replied.

"Why wouldn't I?" Azelma frowned.

Valjean sighed, "Like I said, Éponine's in a delicate condition right now, and it's not a pretty either. She's pretty banged up, and she literally has a tube in her throat helping her to breath. It's one of those sights that you never want to see, personally I'd recommend that Gavroche not come see her."

"Oi! I'm brave enough!" Gavroche objected, and Enjolras wrapped his good arm around the boy's shoulder.

"It's not a matter of bravery, Gavroche," Enjolras explained to the boy. He then looked up at Valjean, "Zelm, Jehan and I will go in first. If I think Gavroche can handle it, I'll send for him."

"Alright," Valjean nodded, and gestured towards the doors out of the waiting room.

"Wait!" Cosette called, rushing forward from Marius' side. "I want to come too. I am her cousin after all."

"Cosette, sweetheart," Fantine touched her daughter's shoulder. "Let's let them go first. We'll see her in a little while."

"Alright," Cosette sighed and sadly nodded as Marius came up and wrapped his arms around her.

Valjean smiled weakly at Enjolras, Azelma and Jehan, "Come on, let's go see her."

It was worse than Enjolras had imagined. The second they had entered the room, Azelma let out a huge gasp and instantly threw herself into the arms of her fiancé, unable to see her sister in such a condition.

There was no way Gavroche was coming to see Éponine any time soon.

Her hand was all banged up, scars lined her scalp (fortunately, Éponine had keep her hair at short enough length that they didn't have to cut it to access the wounds), her hands were scarred from the power guns of grabbing the gun, her hospital gown had some blood stains from the bandages wrapped around her stomach where she had held the gun to her body, there was a tube in her throat helping her breathe, as well as a bunch of other wires and tubes hooked up to her body helping her survive.

It was a miracle she was alive.

Enjolras swallowed hard, he had done everything he could to prevent something like this from happening to her, and now she was in this condition because of him.

He wanted to do something, kiss her lips, her forehead, anything, but he was terrified of hurting her. Glancing over her body, it seemed every inch of her was injured in some way.

Then his eyes landed on her left hand.

It was scarred by the powder burns, having grabbed the gun with her dominant hand (he didn't know why but Éponine being left handed was one of the small things he liked about her). Though they had only been married for a few months, she seemed naked with a bare ring finger. Feeling the round outlines of the rings still gripped in his right hand, Enjolras carefully sat down on the small free space on her bed.

Carefully, he lifted up her injured hand, and slid the rings onto her hand, first the wedding band, then the engagement ring. Still clutching her hand, Enjolras sighed and looked her over once more. It killed him to see her like that.

No! He had to be the strong leader, so that everyone else could cry. So, withholding a tear, he gently brought up her hand, and pressed his lips softly against her hand.

* * *

_And it's these moments that become our history. Like our own personal greatest hits of memories that we play and replay in our minds over and over again._

* * *

_**One Year Ago**_

**July 16, 2011**

* * *

"I feel like an idiot," Enjolras said as he and his roommates (Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Feuilly) set the table for breakfast.

"Now, come on, we've all agreed to this," Combeferre said. "The arrangement will be fine, there's nothing to worry about."

"No, it's not the arrangement I'm worried about," Enjolras shook his head. "It's _how _I'm asking."

"Oh, come on!" Courfeyrac laughed, "Girls love this kind of thing!"

"And how many girls have you done this for?" Feuilly frowned.

Courfeyrac shrugged, "Okay, it's a theory."

"Food's ready!" Combeferre called as the boys finished setting the table.

"Coming!"

Enjolras couldn't help but smile as Éponine exited his bedroom and entered the kitchen, looking as beautiful as ever. He had to say that first thing in the morning was when he personally thought she looked the most beautiful. Unfortunately, Enjolras hadn't been able to see her first thing in the morning a lot, because although they had been dating since the beginning of May, and making love since the end of it, Éponine was still uncomfortable at the thought of leaving Gavroche and Azelma and someone else's house for the night while she made time with her boyfriend. She also was just getting comfortable with making love at her place, though there were some awkward moments involving Enjolras and her siblings the next morning, what with Gavroche giving her boyfriend the evil eye all the time, and Azelma smirking incessantly at Éponine with knowing looks being cast at Enjolras.

Enjolras had been able to convince Éponine to stay over at the small three bedroom house that the four boys shared (Feuilly was crashing on the couch until he could move in with Jehan at their new apartment), by having Azelma and Gavroche stay over at her Aunt and Uncle's house for the night, and the Thénardier children _never _turned down the chance to go over to the Valjean house.

"Morning," Enjolras smiled as Éponine walked toward him, tying her hair into a ponytail.

"Morning," Éponine greeted, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Enjolras wound his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss, completely forgetting about his roommates until Courfeyrac let out a loud wolf whistle.

The couple broke apart as Combeferre, not even looking up from his newspaper, smacked Courfeyrac upside the head, and Feuilly chuckled as Courfeyrac rubbed the bad of his head, more affected by insult than injury.

"Enjolras and I bought strawberries at the farmer's market yesterday," Éponine opened the fridge and pulled out the basket of pink fruit. "Does anyone want any?"

"Farmer's market?" Combeferre peered at Enjolras through the reading glasses perched on his nose.

"A recommendation from Marie," Enjolras shot as Éponine sat down next to Feuilly.

"Buying groceries, bad sign," Feuilly said, helping himself to a few of the fruits.

"What?" Éponine frowned, pouring herself some juice.

"And we all know what that means," Combeferre smirked at Enjolras, who was currently giving his friend a death glare as he wiped down the counter.

"I like her," Courfeyrac doled some bacon onto his plate. "She's like our mascot."

"Thanks," Éponine frowned at the man her brother got along with so well. "I think."

"Knock it off," Enjolras snapped Courfeyrac lightly but firmly with his dishtowel before throwing it over his shoulder.

"I would rather have her than that ferret you tried to make us adopt," Combeferre flipping the page of his newspaper.

"You just didn't like it because I wanted to name it Combeferret," Courfeyrac rubbed the back of his neck where the dishtowel had hit him.

Feuilly laughed taking a sip of coffee. He paused to regard it and then look at the others in surprise.

"And she makes great coffee," Feuilly raised his cup in a cheers like fashion. "Let's keep her."

"Thank you," Éponine laughed. "But haven't I already been one of you for the past six months? Like back when I met you all in February?"

"We haven't said so," Courfeyrac shook his head.

"Marie said so," Combeferre didn't look up from his paper.

"Oh," Courfeyrac frowned. "Then she has been."

If Enjolras was the leader of the men, Marie was the leader of the women. Combeferre's fiancée had gained the respect of the Les Amis, being second in matters only to Enjolras and Combeferre. If Combeferre was the guide, then Marie was the compass, ensuring the group's morality and direction was always pointing the right way. A mother hen at times, the boys took her word as law, especially when it regarded the women of the job. Truly the waitress' acceptation into the group was the beginning of something new, as with the arrival of Marie, too came Musichetta, Éponine, Juliette, Azelma, and most recently, Cosette. So if Combeferre's future wife said Éponine was one of them, it was the final word on the subject.

Plus the last thing anyone wanted was to piss off Marie, have her go to her parents, and the group suddenly find themselves unwelcome at the Musain.

"So, do I get food too, or do I just get to watch you guys eat?" Éponine looked around at the table which only had plates set out for the boys.

She didn't know why suddenly they all looked at Enjolras.

Enjolras took a deep breath, as if readying himself for something, "Here's your plate."

He carefully walked over and laid the plate in front of her, watching her carefully as he took his seat and she observed her breakfast.

Piled on the plate were three pancakes, and then laid out in blueberries, were the letters MOVEI and then something that looked like either a K, a X or an N followed by a question mark.

Éponine blinked in confusion and looked up at Enjolras, "Movie? You wanna go see a movie? Because I think you spelled movie wrong."

"No," Enjolras shot a look to the other boys watched the pair was amused looks. Leaning over, Enjolras adjusted the blueberries so that they clearly spelled out MOVE IN?

"Move in?" Éponine frowned. "No, I'm sorry, I can't. Azelma and Gavroche have to live with me, I even have papers that say so."

Enjolras laughed, "They'd move in too. We do have three bedrooms here. I know we haven't been dating long, but you guys need a bigger place to live, and this feels right."

Éponine looked at the other boys, "But what about you guys?"

"Well Jehan and I already have our apartment lined up," Feuilly replied. "We're moving in next week."

"And Marie and I have been house shopping now that we're engaged," Combeferre put down his paper to reveal he had been reading the classified.

"And you?" Éponine looked at Courfeyrac.

"I figure I'd crash here for a while," Courfeyrac nicked a piece of bacon from Enjolras' plate.

"No you won't," Enjolras glared at Courfeyrac as the black haired man shoved the stolen bacon in his mouth. "We've already discussed this, you're moving in with Grantaire. We need someone to watch him and make sure he gets home. We all know that his drinking problem has gotten worse lately, though why is beyond me."

Everyone looked away nervously, Grantaire's feelings towards Enjolras were known throughout the group. It seemed the only one who hadn't noticed was Enjolras himself, and no one had been willing to point it out.

"Because, he doesn't want me there, he thinks I'm going to try to make time with his sister." Courfeyrac laughed, "Like that'll happen."

Enjolras just shook his head and turned back to Éponine.

"So?" Éponine looked at him. "Will you move in with me?"

Éponine smiled, "Yes."

Enjolras grinned and overcome with joy, pulled her towards him and captured her lips to his.

"Told you," Combeferre smiled, turning back to his newspaper, as the boys watched the happy couple.

"Hey," Courfeyrac leaned over to Feuilly and whispered. "Twenty euros they're married before this time next year."

"You're on," Feuilly shook his hand.

* * *

**March 26, 2012**

* * *

"Pay up," Courfeyrac muttered to Feuilly as they kept an eye out.

"Shut up," Feuilly grumbled, glancing back and forth between the ceremony, and the entrance of the gallery.

As an artist, museums were a special place for Éponine and the Musée du Louvre even more so. Éponine and Enjolras' first "real" date had consisted of Enjolras taking her to a gallery opening at the famous museum, an event that was extremely difficult to get tickets to, but that Enjolras had managed through some of his father's contacts that still spoke to Enjolras.

Technically the Museum didn't hold weddings (unless you had insane connections and extremely deep pockets), so it had taken a _lot _of careful planning to sneak the group in to hold the wedding. Combeferre was Enjolras' best man, and Azelma, Éponine's maid of honour. Musichetta had been intrusted with the duty of videotaping the wedding while Bahorel acted as photographer. Since it would look suspicious if they brought in some sort of priest, the group had drawn straws and Joly got ordinated over the internet to perform the wedding, being thrilled that he could technically one day be "Reverend Doctor" or something like that. The rest of the group watched the ceremony as Feuilly and Courfeyrac managed to get stuck with lookout duty.

The ceremony was very quick, with pretty much a short spiel from Joly before he asked them to recite their vows, which they had written themselves.

"Éponine?" Joly gestured for her to speak first.

"Enjolras," Éponine began. "When I met you, I was lost. I had gone through things unimaginable to many people. I had broken my engagement to a man I had thought cared about me, and was desperately in love with a man who was in love with my cousin."

She glanced over to the redhead she used to love, who was blushing bright red and burying his face in the shoulder of his wife, who he had his arms wrapped around.

"I was invisible, The Shadow they called me. No one saw me," Éponine blinked the tears from her eyes as her voice quivered. "And then you did, The Marble Man saw The Shadow. You challenge me to love you, and I did the same, and in doing so I found a whole new world, and how to love again. So, from this day on, I vow to help you love life. To always hold you with tenderness and to have the patience that love, and your stubbornness, demands. To speak when words are needed, and to share the silence when they're not. To agree to disagree on pigeons, to accept the love you have for your car and your fish. And to live within the warmth of your heart and always call it home."

Enjolras smiled, "Wow, you set the bar kind of high."

"Says the man who's renowned for his speeches," Éponine laughed.

Enjolras suddenly frowned, his eye catching on something, "Did you write your vows on one of our pamphlets?"

"Yeah," Éponine grinned, holding up one of the pamphlets that the Les Amis handed out in hopes of spreading their cause. "Why?"

Enjolras smiled and withdrew from his jacket another of the Les Amis pamphlet.

"You know what they say about great minds." Enjolras unfolded his pamphlet, and began to read, "I have not had the easiest life, a difficult situation with my father, leaving behind my family, struggling through school while trying to make a difference in the world. I figured that the only way to deal with everything was to close myself off to the world, to become The Marble Man. And then you walked into my life, and everything changed. I wasn't in love at first, but I soon found myself unable to think of any else. But you were damaged too, and you couldn't let me in, and I knew that even if it killed me, I had to make you feel the way I did. It took time, and slowly but surely I made my way through all your walls, and you made it through mine. And now I know that no matter what happens, I can never be complete without you by my side. I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, that we'll always find the way back to each other."

"Do you take each other as spouses forever?" No one could wipe the smiles off their faces, as Joly asked the hallowed words, repeated throughout history, but customized for equality as Enjolras had put it, not wanting to imply he held any dominance over Éponine as her husband.

"I do," Enjolras grinned, squeezing Éponine's hands tight.

"I do," Éponine nodded, as Courfeyrac glanced away toward the entrance of the gallery.

Joly smiled, proud to say the next words, "Then by the power vested in me by the Region of Île-de-France, I-"

"Security!" Courfeyrac suddenly called.

Everyone's eyes went wide as they looked over at the entrance where a couple security guards had caught sight of the ceremony.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Joly hurriedly finished as everyone prepared to make their break for it.

"Kiss," Jehan urged, grabbing Azelma's hand.

Éponine and Enjolras leaned in to kiss, but Courfeyrac suddenly barrelled into them, breaking them apart.

"Run!" Courfeyrac yelled and everyone scattered, heading out the opposite door toward the exit of the museum as the security guards gave chase. Everyone went in different directions, hopefully confusing the guards, and helping each other escape.

"Everyone meet back at the Musain!" Marie called right before Combeferre pulled her into a corridor.

Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta took one direction. Grantaire and Juliette another. Cosette and Marius a third. Marie and Combeferre another. Jehan and Azelma took a fifth route, Courfeyrac and Gavroche a sixth, Feuilly and Bahorel a seventh, and Enjolras and Éponine, a final eighth way.

Security stuck to the couple, pursuing them all the way until the property line of the museum, where they no longer had jurisdiction anymore. Éponine and Enjolras didn't stop running, their legs cramped, their lungs burned, but they ran laughing all the way. It wasn't until they made it to the Tuileries Gardens that Éponine finally had to ask for them to stop.

"Here," Enjolras pulled her to one of the statues, and they stopped to catch their breath.

"I… told... you… we'd get… caught," Éponine said through her gasps. She looked up to see the statue Enjolras had stopped them at, and suddenly burst out laughing.

"What?" Enjolras frowned and turned to look at the statue. It was the 1934 cast of Auguste Rodin's marble sculpture, _Le Baiser_ aka _The Kiss_. "Of course that's what it would be."

"Of course," Éponine laughed. She finally regulated her breath and looked up smiling at her new husband, "You know, we never did finish our kiss."

Enjolras smiled, "I think it's time I kissed my bride."

Éponine giggled as Enjolras took her in his arms, placed a hand on her face, pulling her lips to his. The kiss was deep and passionate, a testament to the strength of their love, and a promise to never give up on it.

* * *

_A moment of total physical, mental, and every other kind of love._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

**July 21, 2012**

* * *

_So, that's my theory._

* * *

"Sébastien?"

Enjolras looked up from his chair in the waiting room to see Valjean standing in front of him. Combeferre was in the seat next to Enjolras, formerly he had been silently reading a book, but now his attention was on the Doctor. Enjolras had been sitting with his head in his hands, just taking in everything that had happened.

* * *

_That these moments of impact define who we are._

* * *

It had been a little over six weeks since the accident. Bossuet had healed, Grantaire had healed, he had healed, everyone had healed, except Éponine. It had been nothing but surgeries and tests for over a month. Some of the scars had faded, the tube had been removed from her throat, and a good number of the things she had been hooked up to, had been removed.

Though his wife was sick, life had to move on, and Enjolras had returned to the law firm where he, Marius and Bahorel worked (Enjolras and Marius on paid internships and Bahorel as an associate, which no one was quite able to figure out how he managed to hang on to that job). Marie had been a great help for the family as they figured out how to work out their lives. Enjolras had been almost constantly at either the hospital or work, so Courfeyrac was pretty much babysitting Gavroche 24/7. Meanwhile Azelma struggled to balance hospital visits, working full-time and planning hers and Jehan's wedding that was fast approaching. It had been so stressful that at one point she had wanted to call off the wedding, and it took nine of them to talk her out of it.

Most of the Les Amis had come to visit Éponine, some like Combeferre were understanding and just sat with Enjolras for about an hour and read, not saying a word the whole time. Others like Bahorel didn't seem to be comfortable around a comatose banged up Éponine, and had just made the occasional brief appearance every now and then. Gavroche's visits were carefully monitored, though the boy was years beyond his age, he still was a young boy watching his sister in a situation most adults couldn't handle. It was only after Éponine had been in the hospital for three weeks, that they finally allowed him to see her.

Now, a little over six weeks later, it was finally time to wake up Éponine, and Enjolras just prayed that everything would be alright.

"Good morning, Sébastien," Valjean smiled at the blonde.

"Sir," Enjolras nodded, standing up. "Today's the day."

"It is." Valjean glanced around, "Are her siblings coming?"

"No," Enjolras shook his head. "After much convincing on my part, we agreed that we didn't want to overwhelm her, and that Jehan would bring by Gavroche and Azelma later."

"And your friend?" Valjean looked at Combeferre still in his seat.

"Moral support," Combeferre replied. "Just in case."

"Of course," Valjean nodded. "Will he be coming in?"

"No," Enjolras replied. "Just me. He can see her when she's a little better, but again, you never know."

"Good plan," Valjean smiled. He hesitated for a moment, "Not that it's really any of my business, but have you called-"

"Nope," Combeferre frowned at Enjolras. "Despite that fact I keep telling him he should call, he has yet to do so."

"I'll call when things are a little less insane," Enjolras bit. "The last thing I need is to drag them into this mess."

"Alright," Valjean sighed. "But for the record, I think you should call them."

"And a lot of people think I should do a lot of things," Enjolras snapped, "that doesn't mean I'm going to! I get enough of that from them, I don't need it from you."

"Sébastien," Valjean grabbed Enjolras' arm as the boy tried to pass him. He looked at Enjolras for a moment before calmly saying, "It's alright. These things happen for a reason, and although it's not clear why at the moment, God has a plan behind this."

Enjolras sighed, exhaling his anger, "I'm sorry, I just need her back."

* * *

"Don't crowd her," Valjean instructed Enjolras as they came to the edge of Éponine's bed. They had already begun to wean her out of the induced comatose state and she was due to wake up at any moment. "She's gonna be a little groggy, so let's just give her some space."

Enjolras held his breath as he waited. At first nothing happened, then, slowly her eyes fluttered gently open.

Confusion riddling her face as Éponine looked around weakly, and Enjolras let out a mix of a sigh and a laugh as he smiled gently at her.

"Hey," Enjolras practically whispered, and her confused eyes shot to him. The frown didn't leave her face. Carefully trying to manage his joy and the delicacy of the situation, Enjolras said, "It's so good to see you."

"Wh- Wh?" Éponine looked around; the dazed expression wasn't even letting up in the slightest.

"Éponine?" Valjean gently said, trying to stay as the professional doctor, instead of the concerned uncle he was on the inside.

The girl's eyes shot to the doctor, and she visibly relaxed, "Uncle Jean?"

"It's okay." Valjean assured his niece, gently patting her hand. He technically should have kept his professionalism, but it was clear the girl needed him to be her family at that moment. "You're in the hospital. You were in an accident. You hit your head, and hurt your stomach, but you're okay. We just kept you asleep for a while."

"How do you feel?" Enjolras asked, fighting back the urge to just grab her, and hold her and kiss her until he knew he hadn't lost her.

"My head hurts," Éponine weakly said, her voice seeming a little distant than it should be.

Worried about her head, Enjolras frowned and looked to Valjean for guidance.

"That's perfectly normal. I'll get you something for that," Valjean patted his niece's hand and began to turn away.

* * *

_But what I never considered was what if, one day?_

* * *

Éponine carefully looked back at Enjolras, worry, confusion and guilt mixing in her face. Enjolras frowned, he couldn't help but feel that something was… off. Why hadn't she greeted him, or even rally talked to him? Why had she sought comfort with Valjean and not her husband?

"Are you okay?" Enjolras asked, carefully staying in his spot at the foot of her bed.

Then came the blindsiding moment he never dreamed of.

Éponine met his eyes, "Was anyone else hurt, Doctor?

Valjean stopped dead in his tracks.

"Uh…" Enjolras glanced over at Valjean; Éponine was clearly looking at Enjolras, _not_ her uncle. Enjolras shared a look with Valjean, he frowned at him and then both men turned back towards Éponine. Taking a moment, Enjolras took a deep breath and then carefully asked, "Éponine, you know who I am, right?"

"Yeah," Éponine frowned, confusion returning to her face.

"Ok, good," Enjolras let out a deep exhale that was half laugh and half sigh. He began to turn back towards Valjean in relief when suddenly Éponine answered.

"You're my doctor."

* * *

_You could no longer remember any of them?_

* * *

Don't worry, we'll get more into the how they fell in love flashbacks in the next few chapters, but until then, please, read and review.


	2. Moments of Impact

Because I got a lot of messages about the status of My Father's Shadow (including a rather scathing one that basically said I wasn't allowed to do any other project other than that, and that I wasn't allowed to abandon it after all the hype on tumblr), I would like to make it clear **I am not abandoning My Father's Shadow**. Rather I'm going to do it on an alternating basis or something where I work on this where the chapters are easier and shorter, publishing them a lot more frequently, at the same time I work on My Father's Shadow, which takes _a lot _of effort, research and work to publish one chapter. So what I'm going to do, is finish the first couple chapters of this, make sure I get Adelaide all settled into this story, and _then _I'll go back to writing her slow, painful, long and heartbreakingly drawn-out illness until she finally succumbs to her tuberculosis and leaves behind a hole in the Javert family as they struggle to get through life without here.

But until then, I'm going to work on a couple chapters of this, if you don't mind. Fan fiction is a high priority hobby, _not _an obligation or job and _I _get to set the terms on which I write this.

And credit to the tumblr user rideoutoftown who graciously let me use their photo manip of Aaron Tveit and Samantha Barks which Enjolras' phone's lock screen is based off of. To see it please go to post/46344161687/

Finally, this chapter is dedicated to the awesome Christine who bartered her way into an update.

Now on with the show.

* * *

The Vow

Chapter Two

Moments of Impact

* * *

**July 21, 2012**

**10:38 AM**

* * *

"You're my doctor."

Enjolras' eyes stood frozen wide, his dry breaths sticking to his throat as his chest heaved wildly. His mind buzzed painfully, as his wife's impossible words processed in his brain. But somehow, it just didn't add up.

"What?" Enjolras wheezed his back still to her almost as if it were a barrier protecting him from the truth, making it not real. Carefully, Enjolras gathered his courage to turn back to face Éponine and meet her eyes.

The familiar brown orbs were completely blank of recognition.

"You're my doctor," Éponine frowned at the strange blonde. Sensing something was wrong, the girl looked to her Uncle, seeking some sort of comfort and safety in the familiar, "Right? It's unprofessional for you to practice on your family members, but since you're only my mother's sister's husband, they let you get away with working on me if you had the aid of an intern?"

"Intern?" Enjolras repeated, gazing at his wife with utter disbelief.

"Oh sorry, first year," Éponine corrected, flashing the strange blonde a brief smile.

Enjolras' eyes shot to Valjean. The greying man stood silently watching his niece, brain processing all the confusing information. Fortunately, being a neurological specialist, Valjean was already three steps ahead of the couple.

He _knew _what the problem was.

… He just hoped he was wrong.

"Éponine," Valjean cautiously crossed the room. Giving a gentle pat on Enjolras' arm as a signal to back down, the Doctor stopped at his niece's side, laying his charts on the bedside table and took her hand into his firm but friendly grip, one hand over hers, and the other under. Using the hand that was over the young girl's, Valjean used his thumb to give Éponine's hand a comforting stroke, just as he knew his wife would want to do in this situation. What Éponine needed at the moment was a familiar face. "Éponine, I'm worried that your head injury may have caused some damage, so I'm going to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?"

"Alright," Éponine looked between her Uncle and the stranger in confusion, head throbbing as she tried to process everything. She met the eyes of the blonde stranger and was struck with the pain and fear etched in them. Almost as if the sight of her was too much for him to bear, his crystal blue orbs flicked from her gaze as he turned his head away from her.

What was wrong with him?

"Don't worry, Éponine, it's just a couple of simple questions," Valjean patted her hand before releasing it and grabbing the charts from the bedside table. Flipping a few pages, Valjean pulled out a pen from his pocket and clicked it open before reading the first question, "Who is the President of France?"

"I don't know," Éponine replied. "We don't really talk about him at home, and I've never voted."

Valjean looked to Enjolras for confirmation, and the blonde gave a disappointed sigh as he nodded. Unfortunately, they _didn't _talk about the current President at home, due to Enjolras' dislike of him, and he _hadn't _been able to convince her to vote in time for the last election. Then again, they had only been officially dating for nine days when the election happened, so it wasn't his fault she wasn't interested in letting him talk to her about politics at the time.

"Alright," Valjean scribbled down her answer with a few notes, "and when were you born?"

"April 15, 1992," Éponine shifted uncomfortably. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn't figure out what. She had been in an accident? How had that happened?

"Correct," Valjean didn't need Enjolras to confirm that one. "What's your full legal name?"

Éponine rubbed her forehead; the sound of Valjean's scribbling echoing painfully in her head, "Éponine Marie Thénardier."

The scribbling stopped.

Valjean looked up from his chart at his niece. He paused for a moment staring at her before looking over at Enjolras. The blonde looked as if he was about to be sick.

"Could you?" Enjolras swallowed. "Could you repeat that?"

"Éponine Marie Thénardier." Éponine frowned at the strange man, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Éponine," Valjean shared a worried look with Enjolras, if she had lost her memory, he hoped that it wasn't _too _far back. "Éponine, what day was your accident?"

"I don't know," Éponine shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember being in an accident."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Valjean asked.

Éponine's eyes widened, realisation dawning on her, "Wait! Are you saying I have amnesia?"

"I'm saying that I think you have some temporary memory loss," Valjean calmly replied. He glanced back toward Enjolras, who was slowly turning whiter by the minute, "It could just be a temporary side effect from your accident, but I need you to answer a few more questions before I make a final diagnosis. Now please, can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

"Okay," Éponine squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the fleeting memory fragments. "I was… shopping."

"Alright," Valjean wrote something down after sending another glance back at Enjolras, who was gripping the foot of Éponine's hospital bed tightly, as if it were the only thing holding him up.

Éponine frowned, staring at the blonde stranger, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The blonde let out a deep sigh, his blue eyes pleading for… something. Should she remember him? God her head ached!

"Now, Éponine," Valjean's voice brought her back to him, "I want you to focus really hard. With this shopping memory, do you remember what the date was?"

"Ah," Éponine rubbed her temple. "It was… I know this. Oh! It's was December 18th! I remember because it's exactly one week before Christmas and I was shopping for Azelma and Gavroche!"

Valjean and the blonde shared a wary look.

"What?" Éponine frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Éponine," Valjean looked hesitant, she knew something was _extremely _wrong. "December 18th of what year?"

"2010."

The stranger looked like he was about to be sick.

Éponine shrunk back sheepishly, "That's wrong isn't it?"

"Éponine," Valjean gently took her hand. "It's not December 18th, 2010."

Her eyes widened in fear, "What- What day is it?"

Valjean sighed and looked back at Enjolras, his complete weight was leaning upon the foot of the bed, his face was ashen and eyes were screwed shut. He was muttering something to himself, but Valjean couldn't make out what.

"Sébastien?" Valjean asked getting off the bed.

"Yeah?" Enjolras didn't open his eyes.

Valjean placed a hand on his shoulder, "Can you show her on your phone?"

Enjolras hesitated, but then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. As he passed the phone across the bed to hand it to Éponine, their eyes met. It was almost physically painful to look into those familiar brown orbs, the ones that had sent him such messages of deep true love, and see nothing. Éponine carefully took the phone and as she did so, their hands made contact, his skin sending a jolt through her body.

Fearful of this unfamiliar, yet pleasant shock, Éponine quickly drew the phone into her grasp and examined it. Her father had made her pull enough phone grabs to recognize it. A black iPhone protected by a hard plastic red case (the kind you just clipped on the phone). It was probably the 4th gen model, unless they had released a new one that looked exactly like the iPhone 4. She wasn't stupid, she knew she had lost memory, but she didn't have time to freak out, first she needed to know how much had been lost.

Taking a deep breath, she clicked the lock button.

She was not at all prepared for what showed up on the screen. In giant numbers, the time read 10:43 and under that was the date Saturday, 21 July.

But that's not what scared her.

What scared her was the picture.

It was of the blonde stranger, Sébastien, her Uncle Jean had called him. Sébastien was smiling brightly, wearing a navy purple polo shirt, with white accents, and a little bird figure on his right-hand breast pocket. His right arm was resting slightly on his hip, and a black watch was strapped around his wrist. His left arm was around the waist of a dark haired girl. She wore a light denim blue coloured dress, her right arm seemed to be around Sébastien's back and her left hand was adorned by a simple silver bracelet, as she held in place a blue purse that hung from her left shoulder.

The girl was smiling.

The girl was her.

Éponine looked up fearfully at the blonde stranger, half resisting the urge to chuck the phone across the room.

The blonde gave her a pained frown and glanced down, biting his lip, "It's July 21st… 2012."

She gaped at him; she had lost a year and a half? But what about her family? Her parents? Her siblings? And this picture… Swallowing hard, Éponine looked back down at the phone, and took a deep breath, gathering her courage.

Éponine looked up at the blonde, "And who are you?"

Enjolras hesitated, then, slowly, he rounded to her side and sat on the small space previously occupied by Valjean, who was watching the scene with caution. Right now, Valjean was the only thing close that she knew.

Carefully, Enjolras took the phone from Éponine; he felt her eyes on his every move. He sighed and looked down at the picture; it was from a few months ago when Éponine had sold three pieces of her art to a gallery. It had been the first time any of her works that weren't a commissioned order had sold. She had been so proud, and he had been too. He remembered how she told him that she loved him so much and didn't want anyone else but him to share that moment with her.

And now she didn't know him.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the picture for one last bit of strength and looked up directly into her eyes.

"I'm your husband," he said without a tremor.

Her eyes went wide.

In a panic, Éponine glanced to Valjean for confirmation, a pleading look on her face.

Valjean nodded.

Éponine swallowed hard, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. Her eyes shot down to the picture of her smiling with this strange man. It was then she noticed the glint of a golden band on her left hand in the picture. Her eyes shifted to her real life left hand.

Sitting on her third finger were an unfamiliar pair of rings.

Carefully her eyes trailed to the stranger's left hand. Sure enough, sitting on his ring finger was a golden wedding band.

Enjolras took a deep breath, "Éponine?"

He reached out for her.

She drew back.

Sighing, Enjolras shared a look with Valjean. The greying doctor patted Sébastien's shoulder comfortingly. With a sense of finality, Enjolras clicked the lock button on his phone, the image disappearing from sight. Just like the picture, his wife was gone.

Éponine stared at the wedding bands on her finger. There was something wrong, she couldn't possibly be married to this stranger. After all, shouldn't she be wearing a different ring on her finger?

"What happened?" Éponine looked up at the pair of men. "What about Montparnasse?"

That was Enjolras' breaking point.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't sit there and listen to her ask about that poisonous old life of hers. He couldn't listen to her speak about Montparnasse. He had worked so hard to break the hold that her family, and that gang of theirs had on Éponine.

And now?

Now it all meant nothing.

He bolted for the door.

"Sébastien!" he heard Valjean's voice call after him as the doctor followed Enjolras down the hall.

"You said things were very good," Enjolras didn't even look back at Valjean as the doctor caught up to the blonde.

"A brain injury isn't like a broken bone or a laceration," Valjean rounded in front of Enjolras, blocking his path. "Brains are much less predictable. Sometimes, due to the way the swelling tissue presses against the skull, it can cause some impairment.

"Some impairment?" Enjolras snapped. "She doesn't remember me."

Valjean frowned sympathetically, as he tried his best to explain, "Even though she's awake, the swelling can cause confusion or memory loss, erratic mood swings-"

"What?" Enjolras rubbed his temples and walked around Valjean; this was just too much to handle.

"But that's normal." Valjean called after Enjolras as the blonde passed by Combeferre being led towards Éponine's room, "Her memory is going to improve with time!"

Combeferre frowned looking between Valjean and the retreating Enjolras, "What's going on?"

Valjean sighed.

* * *

Enjolras barely looked up as he navigated the halls. He was a man with a mission, and he knew exactly where he was going.

The vending machine on the fourth floor looked exactly the same as it had the last time he had been there. Lightly, Enjolras traced the slight dent in the side of it, remembering the scream of range released as the fist slammed into it deforming the machine.

He remembered that day all too well.

* * *

_**Seven Months Ago**_

**January 1, 2012 **

* * *

There were very few times Enjolras had seen Combeferre cry, and even rarer was the sight of the Guide having a complete breakdown. So watching as his best friend completely lost it, punching and kicking the vending machine until he was bloodied and bruised, Enjolras wasn't sure what to do.

Combeferre once more slammed his fist into the side of the machine and a terrible cry ripped from his throat. He grabbed his fist in pain, clutching it to his chest and falling to the ground. Clearly that last hit had done some damage.

Enjolras just watched silently as the older man sat on the hospital floor, back against the vending machine, head bent down, fist cradled against his chest, and hot tears trailing down his red face. Unfortunately, Enjolras had been raised by a father who would never let his son see him in any condition remotely negative or showing of weakness. As such, the habit of hiding his emotions from his peers had passed to Enjolras, as well as the inability to comfort those in such a condition. It wasn't that he didn't wish to comfort his friend, it was just seeing Combeferre having a breakdown such as this Enjolras didn't know how to, and frankly, he felt awkward about it.

"How is she?" Combeferre suddenly asked, acknowledging Enjolras, but not looking up at him.

"A little better," Enjolras sighed, crossing over to Combeferre and leaning against the wall. "She's with her parents now. Éponine took the others to the Café; Musichetta was the only one who stayed behind."

"Thanks," Combeferre offered a slight, but false, smile to Enjolras.

The younger man hesitated, looking at his best friend before deciding to sit down next to Combeferre with his back against the wall. Enjolras sat with him in awkward silence as Combeferre desperately tried to regulate his crying. Not really sure of what to do, Enjolras watched his friend uneasily for a few minutes. Enjolras frowned before reaching over and stiffly patted Combeferre on the arm.

Combeferre couldn't help but laugh at his friend's awkwardness, "Thanks, Enjolras."

"Sorry," Enjolras sighed. "I'm not used to this whole comforting people thing. Usually that's Marie's job, but…"

Combeferre bit his lip, "Yeah."

The boy sat in silence.

"I just," Combeferre finally spoke. "I just don't understand."

"Well," Enjolras leaned back against the wall, "sometimes these things just happen."

"Nothing ever _just happens_."

"Sure it does."

"No it doesn't!" Combeferre snapped, anger taking over. "My whole life, my faith, my belief system rested solely on the fact that for every why there is an answer. There _has to be _a reason."

Enjolras sighed, "Then maybe you need to realise that sometimes you can't have the answer to everything. Sometimes you just have to leave some things alone."

The silence returned.

"God, look at me," Combeferre put his head into his good hand. "I'm supposed to be strong and supporting Marie right now, instead I'm sobbing pitifully on a hospital floor."

"Look," Enjolras said, "I may be crap at giving advice, but there is something my mother always told me in situations like this."

"What's that?"

"You can't hold up a roof when the pillars are crumbling."

Combeferre sighed, "So you think I should let the building fall?"

"I don't know," Enjolras shook his head and glanced at Combeferre. "But I do know one thing."

"What's that?" Combeferre half-heartedly looked up at his friend.

Enjolras smirked, "You need to get that hand checked out."

Combeferre shook his head and laughed.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

**July 21, 2012**

**10:53 AM**

* * *

"Careful," Enjolras heard Combeferre's voice as he slammed a fist into the vending machine. "You wouldn't want to break your hand like I did."

"If I did, then at least I'd have something else to focus on," Enjolras' frown didn't leave his face as he slammed fist into the cold metal. "Valjean tell you about Éponine?"

"Yep," Combeferre crossed his arms watching his friend. Considering how beat up the vending machine looked in general, he would wager that this was an often enough occurrence in the hospital that the staff had simply given up on protecting the machine and let people get their frustration out. "I'm so sorry, Enjolras."

"Sorry doesn't make anything better," Enjolras' mind was focused solely on pounding the machine. "You of all people should know that."

Combeferre sympathetic smile faltered.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras stopped his pounding and hung his head. Resting his head in his hands, Enjolras put his back to the machine and slid down onto the floor.

"That's alright," Combeferre shrugged. "I think you're entitled to acting out a little bit right now."

"I mean amnesia? That only happens in the movies," Enjolras looked to his friend, a brokenness and loss etched on his face unlike any other Combeferre had ever seen before.

"Unfortunately, it's a real thing."

"I never should have let her come to that rally."

"She would have come anyway," Combeferre pointed out.

"Then I should have stayed with her," Enjolras said.

"It was the crowd that separated you."

"I should have stopped her from grabbing the gun."

"You weren't close enough, if anything it was Marius or I that should have done it."

"I should have found some way to prevent this."

"If you could have you would have."

"I should be able to find some way to blame myself for this!" Enjolras screamed at his friend.

Combeferre took a long silent look at Enjolras and then simply said, "But you can't."

Enjolras glared at his friend, their gazes unbreaking.

Suddenly they burst out laughing; the situation was just too absurd. Combeferre slowly joined his friend on the floor as the pair let out all that emotion and nervous energy.

"Oh God," Enjolras put his head in his hands as his ragged breaths fought between laughter and giving in to the need to cry. "My life is so screwed up. How am I going to tell Zelma and Gavroche? You know she still thinks she's engaged to Montparnasse."

Combeferre shifted awkwardly.

"What?" Enjolras asked sensing there was more to his friend's look than Combeferre projected.

"Well," Combeferre frowned, "with the memory loss, I'm just worried about the case against him."

Enjolras stiffened, he hadn't thought of that.

"It'll be fine, I mean," Enjolras' brow furrowed as he worked through the problem before him, "there's other witnesses."

"But a lot of it is circumstantial and he said, she said," Combeferre reminded his friend. "I know you're just an intern, but as someone who works in a law firm, give me your professional opinion, without her testimony, does the case have a chance?"

Enjolras was silent for a good long while.

"No."

Combeferre tilted his head sympathetically, "I think…"

Enjolras looked at his friend as the Guide struggled to get his next words out.

"I think you should call them," Combeferre finished.

Enjolras groaned, "Combeferre-"

"If you don't tell them, someone else will," Combeferre firmly cut off his friend. "I mean for God's sake, I understand how you could avoid _him, _but I don't know how you've managed to hold _her_ off for so long already."

"It's not something she needs to know."

"I don't understand why you won't tell her."

"Because she'll tell _him!_ And that's the last thing I need right now!"

"She's your _social worker!_" Combeferre yelled. Sometimes Enjolras pushed the Guide just a little too hard. "If you don't tell her and she finds out from someone else, it's not going to end well. You could lose Azelma and Gavroche! And I'm guessing relocation isn't something high on Azelma's list when her wedding is only a few months away."

"And if I tell her now?" Enjolras bit. "Before we've figured out how to deal with this? I _will _lose them."

"Enjolras, you're already running a great risk because of your relationship with her. I mean, not everyone's social worker is also-"

"That _relationship_ is already noted and accepted by her superiors, and the only thing that's bought me this much time so far!"

"Which is more important to you?" Combeferre snapped. "Avoiding an awkward personal situation? Or losing Azelma and Gavroche? Because with Éponine like this and your relationship with your parents as it currently is, those two are _all _the family you have left. Can you really afford to lose that?"

Enjolras stared at him silently, the words sinking in. Combeferre was right.

"No," Enjolras simply said. He exhaled, pausing silently for a few minutes before finally conceding, "I'll call her, have her come over to the house and explain the situation to her."

Combeferre patted his friend's leg, "She'll be understanding, Enjolras."

"I know," Enjolras sighed. "But I want to do it on Wednesday. Give me some time to work out the situation a little, figure out where things are, then bring in that complicated mess."

"Alright," Combeferre frowned. "But if she asks, I said to do it right away."

"Fine."

Combeferre watched his friend, Enjolras was silent but the struggle to withhold his sorrow and all the negative emotions other than anger was evident on his face.

"You know, a wise man once told me that you can't hold up a roof when the pillars are crumbling." Combeferre looked at Enjolras, "Maybe you should let the building fall."

Enjolras looked up at his friend, a heart wrenching look on his face, "But what if you've lost the plans for the building and you don't know how to fix it?"

Enjolras looked so lost.

Combeferre took a deep breath, "Well, if the plans are truly lost, which we don't know for sure yet, but if they are, then you can only do one thing."

"What's that?"

"Start from scratch and make a better building. But for now," Combeferre patted his friend on the shoulder, "let it fall."

* * *

"I am never having another wedding!"

Jehan arched a brow, glancing up from his catalogue, "As the person you are having a wedding with, I must say, I'm a little relieved."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Azelma playfully swatted his shoulder. "It's just so expensive!"

Jehan glanced over at the spreadsheet blinking on the screen of the laptop opened in front of his fiancée. The dining room table of the Enjolras/Thénardier household was covered with various wedding materials as the future bride and groom desperately tried to get everything done in time for their wedding which was frighteningly in eight weeks to the day.

"That's how many zeros?" Jehan asked eyes fixed on the line that read Grand Total.

"I know," Azelma groaned typing something on the keyboard so fast her fiancé couldn't follow it.

As an engagement gift they had received a memory stick for their wedding planning, and Azelma had everything stored perfectly on it. Charts and spreadsheets, and mock ups of place cards and even a multicolored pie chart of the estimated time it would take before Grantaire would be drunk so they could plan accordingly. Honestly, Azelma had everything perfectly organized; planning their wedding had been surprisingly fluid for Azelma. She seemed to have a knack for this event planning thing. But the only thing she wasn't able to control was the budget.

"I mean I'm not asking for a 20,000 euro wedding," Azelma frowned at the screen, willing the number to miraculously lessen.

"Well maybe we can find some places to make some cuts?" Jehan suggested.

"Where? I am we've already cut this wedding down as much as possible. The girls bought their own dresses, the guys are wearing their suits from Marius' wedding, I'm wearing a second-hand dress that Juliette's tailoring for free, we're getting that cake deal thanks to Feuilly, Uncle Valjean's old foster parent is officiating; Aunt Fantine is having the girls from her salon do hair and makeup for free. We literally have nowhere else to cut down or get a discount. Not to mention Enjolras and Éponine are giving us 1000 euros, and so are your parents."

"So, exactly how much are we over budget by?"

Azelma tapped a few keys, then groaned and set her head on the table, "2000."

Jehan's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. On paper, their 5000 euro budget seemed like more than enough, but in reality they were nearing about 7000, no matter how many cuts they made.

"Hey," As his fiancée looked up at him, Jehan reached out, took one of her hands in his and gently pressed a kiss to it. "Are you okay?"

Azelma sighed, "I'm fine, it's just with all that's happened lately, I'm getting really stressed out."

"Just remember that you don't have to do this alone," Jehan said. "I always will be, no matter what."

"You always have been," Azelma grinned at her fiancé, "even on the day we met."

* * *

_**One Year Ago**_

**April 8, 2011**

* * *

There was nothing worse to a high school student than being forced to stay after school in detention on a Friday. But there Jean Prouvaire was, sitting at a cheap cramped desk, watching as the minute hand on the wall clock ticked slowly by.

He rubbed his sore cheek; although he had no mirror to check, there was undoubtedly a large bruise forming there. It had been inflicted by the same three boys that were sitting four rows back and bouncing paper balls off the back of his head whenever the teacher supervising the delinquents wasn't watching.

"_Ignore them. Ignore them," _Jehan chanted in his head as his gripped the desk tightly and tried to think of better things.

He pictured his friends who formed the group called Les Amis de l'ABC. He pictured what they would do if they found out what those idiots had done to not only the youngest Amis, but an actual blood relative, the little cousin of their resident hypochondriac. He pictured how all the boys, even Enjolras, would team up to take revenge on the idiots who dare hurt one of their ranks. The worst would seem to be Bahorel, just due to how well-known the man was for fighting, but Enjolras was capable of being terrible. Even the patient guide, Combeferre, was pretty badass in a fight, although the rest of the boys might have to pry his cousin, Joly from the group as no one messed with one cousin without facing the other. Feuilly would also be an adversary, as out of the group, Jehan was probably closest to the fan maker, though Grantaire was quite protective of Jehan too. And as for Courfeyrac-

Another paper ball bounced off Jehan's head.

Jehan breathed deeply, looking at the clock: there was only five minutes to go.

He looked around the room, desperately searching for a distraction when suddenly his eyes caught a glimpse of red. It was the only other person in the detention room, the red had been her hair, but it wasn't the orange red colour that Jehan had, but rather a brunette red that, judging by the darker brown roots, was not her natural colour.

Jehan frowned, he couldn't help but feel he had seen her somewhere before. He stared intently at the redhead, trying to place her.

After a while, the girl began to fidget uncomfortably, it was almost like she knew he was watching her. Jehan's suspicions were confirmed when she looked back at him. He lowered his eyes quickly, but after a moment, he couldn't help but glance up, hoping to recognize her.

He was met with one of the dirtiest glares he had ever seen.

"What?" she mouthed to him, which, had it been spoken, would no doubt have been accompanied by a dangerous tone.

Jehan blushed and lowered his eyes, the implications of staring at a strange girl, setting in his head. He opened his mouth to apologize, but he was cut off by the teacher overseeing them.

"Alright boys and girls, you can leave now. Have a good weekend, and try not to do any property damage on your way out."

The redheaded girl grabbed her bag and was out of the door in an instant.

Jehan sighed; he had definitely screwed that up.

"See you Monday, Fag," one of the boys who had hit Jehan knocked over the poetry book that had been sitting on Jehan's desk.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he shoved his books into his bag.

He had to get the hell out of there.

* * *

"Hey!"

Jehan started, dropping his keys which had been fumbling in the lock of his car when the moment of shock had happened. He turned around and saw the redheaded girl stalking across the parking lot toward him.

He took a deep breath, "Yes?"

"What's your problem?" the redhead came to a stop in front of him, hand poised on her hip and an angry glare fixed on Jehan.

"I'm sorry?" the Poet stuttered.

"Why the hell were you staring at me?" she snapped.

"I'm sorry," Jehan started. "I just-"

He was suddenly cut off by the song Bad Reputation blaring from the girl's bag.

"One minute." The redhead dug a phone out of her bag and flipped it open, "Hello? Oh hey Ep… Yeah I'm out of detention now… Oh you better be sorry, I had to sit in a room of creepy guys who stare at me and will probably end up either flipping burgers for minimum wage or in prison."

The girl paused, listening to the person on the other end of the line, Ep or something like that. It was almost as if she had forgotten her anger at Jehan as she casually leaned against his old banged up car.

"You want me to what?" the redhead's eyebrows knitted together. "No I can't babysit tomorrow! … What do you mean I don't have a choice? What if I have plans? … Okay, the fact that I don't have plans, or friends, shouldn't affect that you can't just drop something like this on me… Well what's so important that I have to sacrifice my Saturday? … You have a date? With who? … Who the hell is Ingjolras? And what happened to that hideously inappropriate crush? … On who? Marius! Marius Pontmercy? Our cousin's new husband and the guy you've been in love with since August… Whatever, fine, I'll see you tonight… Yeah, bye. UGH!"

The redhead let out an exasperated groan and leaned forward on the car after hanging up the phone.

She glanced over at Jehan, "What are you looking at?"

"Marius Pontmercy!" Jehan exclaimed, the pieces finally clicking in his head. "_That's _where I know you from!"

"I'm sorry?" she raised a brow at him.

"Sorry, I was staring at you before because I was trying to remember where I know you from," Jehan explained. "You were at Marius Pontmercy's wedding, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she adjusted herself so it was her back leaning against the car, not her front. "The bride is my cousin."

"Yeah, I think we had a dance or two. I'm Jean Prouvaire."

"Oh right, Jean," she nodded. "I remember, you have the same name as my uncle. I'm Azelma Thénardier."

His eyes widened slightly, he hadn't heard her last name at the wedding, and he couldn't help but remember the way the name Thénardier had been splashed across every newspaper and on every news show back in January.

"Nice to see you again, Azelma," Jehan extended his hand.

There must have been something in his face, because Azelma lightly bit her lip and said, "And yes, my father _is _the Thénardier the police have been looking for. Don't worry, I'm used to the staring and whispers by now."

"I wouldn't whisper about you, and as for the staring, I was just so focused on trying to place you that I didn't even think about if I was being rude or not. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she shrugged. "So, Jean Prouvaire, what brings you to the hall of delinquents? Let me guess, you attempted to do some of your social justice activism? That's what your group does, right?"

"Yes, but that's not why I got detention," Jehan ran a hand through his hair. "I got in a fight."

"Well that would explain this," Azelma lightly touched the bruise on his jaw. Jehan shuddered at her touch, though he couldn't still if it was from the pain of her touching the bruise, or the pleasure of her touching _him_.

"Yeah, apparently you can't work in a flower shop and write poetry without being called a homosexual," Jehan sighed. "It doesn't help that the whole school knows that my cousin has a boyfriend _and _a girlfriend… Or whatever the hell those three do."

"So you hit a guy for calling you a homosexual?"

"No, I punched one guy for calling my cousin '_a fairy who can't get his own girl'_ and then the three of them jumped me. Thank God that I've been boxing since I was thirteen."

"You must be good to get away with only that bruise."

"Thanks, but I'll be sore tomorrow," he reddened slightly. "So what's your crime? I heard your parents are pretty hardcore."

Her face hardened, "You mean my mother's in jail, my father is France's Most Wanted and my sister is testifying against her ex-fiancé? I'm not like my family, I don't deserve my bad reputation and I don't appreciate anyone assuming I do."

"You might want to consider changing your ringtone then," Jehan pointed out.

"But it's my jam," Azelma smirked. "Truth be told, I got detention due to a misunderstanding."

"How so?"

"My sister and I were out shopping a couple of weeks ago and this store was having a 2 for 1 deal on these _amazing _faux leather jackets. We both adored them so we decided to each get them. The problem is that they're identical, and I guess I grabbed my sister's by accident this morning. Had I known they were doing locker checks today, I would have checked which jacket I took before I got to school. When they checked my locker, they found my sister's cigarettes in a jacket pocket."

"Ouch," Jehan winced.

Azelma nodded, "Tell me about it. So I get hauled down to the principal's office, and they phoned my sister. She explains the mix-up and the principal says that he understands, but there's still the fact that an underage girl has cigarettes in her locker, so I have one day's detention because I grabbed the wrong jacket. Oh, and the worst part? My bus pass was in my _real_ jacket, which is at home, and now I have to walk thirteen blocks home."

Jehan frowned, "Thirteen blocks? Isn't that like a mile? Aren't there any high schools closer to where you live?"

"Yeah, but we don't exactly live in a 'nice' neighbourhood, and at that high school I have like a 3 in 1 chance of getting shot, pregnant or in jail before graduation." Azelma sighed and rested her bag on top of the trunk of Jehan's car, "Sorry I snapped at you, it's just been a bad day."

"I know what you mean," Jehan's eyes narrowed at something over Azelma's shoulder.

She looked at what had caught Jehan's attention, it was the three idiots the Poet had gotten into a fight with.

"What are they still doing here?" Jehan gritted his teeth.

"Probably doing damage to school property," Azelma muttered. "That or they shared a pack of crap cigarettes in the boys' locker room."

"Crap cigarettes?" Jehan raised an eyebrow, setting his backpack on the trunk next to Azelma's bag.

Azelma shrugged, "Just because I don't smoke, doesn't mean I know there's a difference between quality tobacco and the shit they get their brothers' to buy for them."

"Well guys, look what we have here," the guy who had knocked over Jehan's book, and clearly the leader of the trio laughed as they approached the Poet and the Thénardier. "The Fag found a friend."

"And a Thénardier too," the second guy pointed out. "I guess it's true what they say, trash of a feather, flocks together."

Jehan glared at the boys, "It's _birds _of a feather, flocks together."

"Whatever, Fag," the Leader snorted. The other boys laughed and gave him a high five.

Azelma raised a brow, "You must live a sad life if that insult merits a high five."

"Don't you think you're a little cheap to be using big words," the Leader snapped. "Hell, if I know what _merits _is supposed to mean."

"Well that doesn't surprise me," Azelma smirked, "after all you seem to only know one synonym for homosexual."

"What the fuck does cinnamon have to do with Fags?" the Leader seemed to be turning red, though whether that was from anger, humiliation or both was uncertain. "Why don't you stop using stupid fancy language and I can show you a _real _use for your mouth?"

Though she was glaring at the trio as they laughed and high fived, the only action Azelma made was holding back the fist that was forming at Jehan's side. Oddly enough, the feeling of her touch seemed to relax him for some reason.

Seeing that he wasn't able to get a reaction out of Azelma, the Leader smirked and gave it one last try.

"Come on guys," the Leader said, "let's leave the trash with the trash. Say Hi to your fairy cousin for me Prouvaire."

Jehan gritted his teeth as the trio walked past The Poet and Azelma, though the Leader's friends frowned at each other in confusion with their apparent defeat.

"Oh and Azelma?" The Leader stopped and turned back to the girl, "If your sister has a mouth like yours, I can't help but feel like she only got what she deserved."

It must have been instinct acting, because Jehan wasn't even aware of him locking his arms around Azelma's waist and holding her back until he felt her struggling against his chest. The Leader smirked at the Thénardier, and in final insult, he knocked over the bags off Jehan's trunk. Azelma's bag must have been undone as her possessions spilled across the ground as the trio walked away, of course laughing and high fiving away.

"It's okay," Jehan held her tight. Though they didn't know each other very well, he couldn't help but feel it were the most natural thing in the world to rest his head on her shoulder and whisper into her ear as he kept his arms tight, but gently in his grasp, "Remember, they will probably end up flipping burgers for minimum wage."

She blinked a tear from her eye, and whispered, "Or in prison."

He couldn't help but resist the urge to wipe away the tear rolling down her cheek.

It was about then that their position registered in their minds.

Clearing his throat, Jehan released Azelma from his arms, and she began to pick up her items that were scattered across the parking lot. Not really sure what to say, Jehan bent down and helped her collect her items.

His hand froze, before him was a book of poetry.

"Robert Frost?" Jehan held up the book. "I didn't know you were a fan."

"I'm not," Azelma shoved a textbook into her bag. "I have no idea what the hell he's saying half the time, and the other half, when I think I _do _know what he's saying, my teacher says I'm wrong."

"There's no such thing as being wrong in literature," Jehan said. "It's _your _interpretation and nobody gets to tell you what to think."

Azelma raised a brow challengingly, "What if you think _The Road Not Taken _is about picking onions?"

"I could actually see some arguments for that," Jehan shrugged.

Azelma laughed, "Well I'm not _that _bad."

"Out of curiosity, if you don't like poetry, why do you have a Robert Frost book?"

"Oh, it's a school project, I'm supposed to do a presentation on the life of a poet and the meaning behind five of his poems. I got assigned Robert Frost."

"But Frost is American, shouldn't they have assigned French poets?"

Azelma laughed, "Yeah right, name five French poets and we'll talk."

"Guillaume Apollinaire, Jean François de Saint-Lambert, Henri Auguste Barbier, Joachim Gasquet, and Victor Hugo," Jehan recited without hesitation.

Azelma blinked at him.

"I like poetry," Jehan said.

"I can tell," Azelma nodded. "The problem is, I can't figure out how I'm going to do this project if I have no idea what he's saying."

"Well, an easy one would be _The Road Not Taken_," Jehan suggested as he began flipping through the book, looking for a couple poems to recommend. "It's a classic about the what ifs in life, and if taking the hard road has better rewards than the easy one. A couple more good ones are _Fire and Ice _and _Nothing Gold Can Stay_."

"Well, my teacher suggested _Bond And Free_, is that a good one?"

Jehan beamed, "One of the best. It's about the difference between Love and Thought, and how one keeps you grounded to earth and the other gives you the freedom to soar."

"So, Thought is better than Love?"

"Well that's the question the poem asks; though Thought gives you freedom, the safety of Love is far more liberating."

Azelma smiled, "Thanks, that helps a lot."

"Only happy to help," Jehan nodded handing her back the book.

Azelma hesitated, taking the book and putting it back into her bag, "Well, I should probably get going, I have a long walk ahead of me."

"I guess so," Jehan sighed.

She fastened her bag shut and threw it around one shoulder before giving Jehan one last smile and starting on her way. Jehan watched her go, a debate raging in his head as he gathered his courage.

"Hey, Azelma!" he called.

She turned back to him, "Yeah?"

Jehan hesitated, "Do you- Do you want a ride?"

Azelma frowned, "Isn't it out of your way?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "My parents aren't expecting me home until midnight and I was just going to go hang out at the Café with the Amis until our meeting starts. I have plenty of time to give you a ride if you don't have your bus pass."

She approached the car, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, hop in."

"Alright," she grinned practically running back to the car.

Jehan had unlocked the passenger door, and the two teens slipped into the car, throwing their bags into the backseat.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Jehan, "Hey, Azelma?"

"Yeah?" she buckled into her seat.

"You don't also keep your keys in your jacket, do you?"

Azelma patted her jacket pocket.

"Merde."

Jehan weakly smiled, "Perhaps your sister will let you in?"

"No," Azelma groaned. "She's out running errands with Gavroche, she has to meet with the lawyers and then our social worker and then she's dropping off Gavroche at seven before going to her night class. She said she wouldn't have a moment to spare until then. Merde! What am I going to do? I guess I could call Aunt Fantine or Uncle Valjean and see if they have keys, and if they don't I guess I might be able to stay there until Éponine gets home. Oh, but if I'm at their home, that means that Éponine won't have time to pick me up and bring me home before class, and she'll be too tired afterwards. I might have to stay the night."

The Poet thought for a moment, "Or…"

Azelma looked at her driver.

"I know this little coffee shop attached to a second hand book store," Jehan continued. "Maybe we could go there and talk some more about your project and then I can take you home in time for your sister to let you in?"

Azelma raised a brow at him, "Like a date?"

"If you want to put a label on it," Jehan shrugged.

Azelma thought for a minute and then smiled, "Lead the way, Jean."

"Please," Jehan grinned, turning the keys in the ignition, "call me Jehan."

* * *

_**Present Day**_

**July 21, 2012**

**11:39 AM**

* * *

"_His gains in heaven are what they are._

_Yet some say Love by being thrall,_

_And simply staying possesses all,_

_In several beauty that Thought fares far,_

_To find fused in another star,"_ Jehan recited, pressing another gentle kiss to his fiancée's hands.

"_Bond And Free_," Azelma smiled recognizing the words of the poem that had brought them together. "You know I still don't know what the hell he was saying."

"I know," Jehan laughed, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I know."

Azelma frowned, "Who said you were allowed to stop kissing me?"

Jehan laughed again before pressing his lips back to his fiancée's. Azelma returned his kiss with quite the vigor as she slipping her hand in his short red curls and pulled him in harder. He returned the action, weaving a hand into her own hair as she eased open his mouth and slipped a playful tongue in. After a few minutes of tongue play, Jehan broke the kiss and began trailing his mouth down her soft neck as he slowly eased her into his lap.

"OI! THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE!" an all too familiar voice destroyed the moment.

"Gavroche," Azelma hissed, still perched in her fiancé's lap. "What are you doing? I thought you were playing in your room."

"I'm hungry," Gavroche frowned. "Or at least I _was_…"

"Lunch should be here soon," Jehan shifted Azelma back into her chair and smoothed out his clothing, redoing his top bottom which Azelma had worked on in their make out session. "We were just-"

"I know what you were doing," Gavroche flopped onto the couch in the living room. "I live with Enjolras and Éponine."

"Anyways," Jehan just shook his head and grabbed the catalogue sitting in front of him. "We still need to make a final decision on the flowers. My boss said that if we want that discount that we need to get in our order tomorrow and we still need to make your bouquet."

"Alright," Azelma opened the catalogue of the flower shop Jehan worked at and began flipping through.

To say it was a flower shop was actually almost insulting. It was a high end florist that had been featured in magazines all over the world throughout the years. Walking into the shop was like walking into an art gallery. Jehan worked as one of the store's more prominent arrangers (or "stylists" as his official title was) and had shot to the top of the list of most requested store stylists when an arrangement of his made the cover of a high end bridal magazine two months ago. He had even reached a little bit of five minutes of fame when the magazine people had found out that the man who had made their cover feature was engaged, and did a brief one page interview with Jehan and Azelma on their tips to cut down their wedding budget in the last month's issue. Azelma had had both their interview and Jehan's cover, framed.

"Why don't we just go with red roses?" Azelma gestured to a page that had beautiful wedding arrangements splashed across it.

Jehan chuckled kindly, "I thought you wanted to cut the cost of our wedding. Red roses are the most expensive flower."

Azelma groaned putting her hand down on the magazine, "Then what do you suggest?"

"Well, if your heart is set on having roses," he gently moved her head off the magazine and flipped a few pages, "maybe we could do primroses? I'd recommend maybe light pink if you have a white wedding dress."

"Are you trying to figure out what my dress looks like?"

"Zelma, Mon Amour, you know I was the one who suggested not seeing you in your dress until our wedding. I want that moment when I get to see you walk down the aisle all beautifully done up, though it's impossible to imagine you being more beautiful than you always are."

"Oh, sweet, kind, romantic, thoughtful, and a terrible force to reckon with when you're mad," Azelma smiled. "God was having a good day when he made you."

"Though not as good as when he made you," Jehan murmured gently brushing his lips to hers once more.

"OI! Child present!" Gavroche called out before anything more could happen.

"Remind me why we couldn't have stuck him at Courfeyrac's today?" Azelma grumbled.

"Let's be honest," Jehan replied, "we wouldn't have gotten any work done today."

Azelma laughed, and then point back at the magazine, "So, pink primroses, what do they mean? You know I wanted a bouquet arranged with flowers that have meaning."

"They mean," Jehan flipped to the back of the magazine where they listed the meanings of the various flowers. It was something the shop was known for doing, and how Enjolras had once used a bouquet of jonquils to hint that his romantic suit towards Éponine had not gone cold. "They mean young love."

"Well, I think that's appropriate," Azelma smiled half-heartedly.

Quite a lot of people hadn't been able to withhold their opinion that at only 18 and 19 (when the wedding was to be performed) Azelma and Jehan were too young to be married. She would snap back that it apparently wasn't too young to decide her future career, as Azelma famously had yet to decide her post-secondary plans as well. She told anyone who questioned the marriage that if she was old enough to decide what she wanted to do with her life, she was old enough to decide who she wanted to spend it with.

"So, the bouquet is going to just be primroses?" Azelma asked Jehan, after all, he was the professional.

"No," Jehan replied, "they make better space fillers. I think we need to add another flower. What did we pick for the bridesmaids bouquets?"

"Uh," Azelma typed something in her computer, "lilium rubellum… whatever the hell those are."

"They're a type of pink Japanese lilies," he didn't look up as he flipped through the flower magazine looking for a complementing flower. "Alright, not to be too stereotypical, but how about white lilies? I know they're at like every wedding, but they mean purity, so…"

Jehan blushed and looked over at Gavroche, hoping the boy hadn't overheard. The first thought that people had had when they heard of the engagement was that Azelma was pregnant, which almost led to Enjolras killing Jehan. The fact was both the bride and the groom would be going into their wedding night as virgins, a fact that really shouldn't have shocked people as much as it did. After all, they were only 17 and 18 at the time. When they had found out each other hadn't sleep with anyone else, they had decided to wait for marriage, which some people suspected was the reason for the quick marriage, but the truth was that they loved each other and knew they didn't want to ever be with anyone else.

"Don't worry," Azelma smiled taking her fiancé's hand, some of the guys had given the Poet a rather hard time about his innocence, "I want this to be as traditional as possible. It what I've always dreamed of."

"Lilies it is," Jehan nodded and gently kissed her yet again.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"One of these days, we'll kiss without be interrupted," Azelma sighed, pushing her chair out and standing up.

Jehan groaned, getting out if his own chair, "I swear if we're interrupted on our wedding day-"

Azelma laughed, and grabbed his hand. They made their way to the door that doubled on an entrance into the kitchen, as well as the house itself.

In all fairness, it was a small house.

Opening the door, Azelma instantly beamed, "Marius! Cosette! Aunt Fantine!"

If it had been any other day, Azelma gladly would have hugged her aunt, cousin and cousin-in-law in greeting but currently her aunt was holding a large garment bag, her cousin a large pizza box, and her cousin-in-law a large bouquet of flowers from Jehan's shop.

"What's with the flowers?" Jehan asked as the trio entered the house and Gavroche dashed up to Cosette, her being the bearer of lunch.

"Oh, I was hoping that we might get to see Éponine sometime today, so I bought her a bouquet of her favorite flowers," Marius explained.

"Remember what Jean said, Marius," Fantine reminded her son-in-law, "we'll only see her if everything's going good and Enjolras says he thinks she's up to more visitors."

"Daisies?" Jehan raised a brow at Marius. "Have you seriously not gotten it yet? Éponine's favorite flowers are daffodils, or specifically jonquils, which in all fairness a type of daffodil… kind of."

Everyone stared at Jehan.

"Oh yeah, big surprise, Jehan knows what everyone's favorite flowers are!" Jehan held up his hands in defense, "You people buy them from me enough to know! Éponine's are daffodils, Azelma's are tiger lilies, which are why we're using them in the decorations. Fantine's are red roses, Cosette's are sunflowers, Marie peonies, Juliette pansies, and for Musichetta, orchids if they come from Joly, but lilacs if they come from Bossuet."

Everyone stared at Jehan.

"So anyways," Azelma cleared her throat, "he's right, she likes daffodils, not daisies."

"They used to be her favorite," Marius objected.

"No, they've always been daffodils," Azelma corrected, "but you always mixed them up with daisies and she used to pretend that they were her favorite when you got them, because she didn't want to upset you and she was madly in love with you."

Marius frowned, "Oh."

Cosette laughed, "Don't worry, she'll still love them, it's the thought that counts."

"So are we having lunch or not?" Gavroche asked, bored of all the flower talk. The group had decided to have lunch together in case Enjolras called and said that Éponine could have visitors, and they had first right to visiting her as her family.

"Why don't the boys dish out lunch while we go look at what I brought," Fantine suggested gesturing with the garment bag in her hands.

Azelma gasped, as if she had just seen the bag for the first time, "Is that?"

Fantine smiled, "I got it from Ginette this morning."

Azelma squealed loudly, "Oh my god! I have to try it on!"

"Alright," Fantine laughed, handing the bag over to her niece, "but Juliette hasn't done the adjustments just yet, so it may not fit."

"I don't care!" Azelma practically ran out of the room and down the hall with Cosette and Fantine following her into her room.

"What is that?" Jehan frowned as he, Gavroche and Marius began grabbing plates to put the pizza on.

"Oh, it's the wedding dress Azelma is buying from the girl at Fantine's salon," Marius replied.

A loud squeal suddenly came from across the house.

"I think she likes at," Jehan shook his head, opening the pizza box. "Is there onion on this?"

"Yeah," Marius placed a slice on a plate and handed to Gavroche, who scampered back to the living room couch. "Why?"

"Zelma hates onion, but at least you made sure there were olives, those are her favorite. I mean I can't stand them, but they're easy enough to pick off," Jehan frowned laying a pair of pizza slices onto two plates and began picking off the olives off of one slice and transferring them to the second slice, that he was picking the onions off of.

"Isn't that a little much?" Marius laughed. "Couldn't she do that herself?"

"It's called romance, Pontmercy," Jehan teasingly chucked an olive at Marius' forehead. "You could use a lesson or two in it."

"Jehan, don't throw olives at Marius," Fantine re-entered the living room, the girls trailing behind her.

"Yes, Madame Valjean," Jehan smirked as the girls came and grabbed their slices of pizza.

"Thanks for picking the onions off," Azelma kissed her fiancé's cheek, and Jehan shot Marius a look.

"So, anyone have any ideas as to what to do while we wait to hear from Enjolras?" Cosette asked.

"If it's wedding planning, I'm out of here," Gavroche replied looking at his sister. "I'm still upset you asked Enjolras to give you away instead of me."

Azelma sighed, not wanting to have that conversation again, "Why don't we just throw in a movie? Anything's fine."

"That sounds perfect," Fantine nodded.

"I'll grab something," Jehan offered.

He was heading towards the library room when suddenly a phone began to ring. Fantine frowned, recognizing it as her own, and crossed over to where she had dropped her purse on the counter. She dug out her cell phone and then her eyes widened.

"Who is it?" Cosette asked as Jehan walked over to stand beside Azelma.

"It's your step-father," Fantine stared at the display flashing the name _Jean _across its screen. She quickly answered it, "Hello? … Yes, Hi Jean. What's going on? … Why? … Well is she okay? … No, I understand… Yes, we'll be right there… Love you too… Alright, goodbye."

"What's going on?" Azelma frowned as Fantine hang up the phone and began collecting pizza plates and transferring them back into the pizza box.

"That was Jean," Fantine explained, "he needs us to get to the hospital now, there's something wrong with Éponine."

Without a word, Marius began helping his mother-in-law put away the lunch as Cosette steered Gavroche towards the door and Jehan grabbed his car keys from the counter.

"What's wrong with Éponine?" Azelma couldn't move, she felt like she was going to be sick. "Is she alright?"

"He said she was fine physically but that we need to get there right away," Fantine replied. "He said it was something that shouldn't be told over the phone."

Jehan looked between his future in-laws and his pale fiancée.

"You know what, why don't you two take Gavroche ahead? I'll take Azelma in my car," Jehan placed a comforting hand on Azelma's shoulder.

Fantine nodded with understanding, "Alright. Come on, let's get to the hospital."

Fantine, Cosette, Gavroche, and Marius, who was sure to collect his daisies, piled out the door, allowing the engaged couple a moment alone.

"Are you okay?" Jehan asked Azelma carefully, knowing very well that the look on her face meant she was withholding tears.

"Jehan," Azelma's voice shook, "I'm scared."

"Hey," Jehan softly said, positioning himself in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders forcing her into a position of both authority and comfort where she could look him in the eye and hold him in need be. "Everything's going to be alright."

Azelma sobbed and put her head on his shoulder and wept. He instantly wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"Everything's going to be alright," he whispered into her hair, rocking her gently from side to side.

"Do you promise?" she managed between sobs.

"No," he stroked her head. "But I promise to do whatever it takes to make things alright."

For a few minutes they simply stood there, holding each other as he whispered sweet reassurances to his future bride. Then, when he body stopped shaking, Azelma pulled back.

"Are you ready?" Jehan asked.

"Yes," Azelma sniffed, rubbing her eyes and taking his hand firmly. "Let's go see what's wrong with Éponine."

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